


A Park Family Recipe

by pepijr



Category: GOT7
Genre: Child Hyunjin, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Law Student Jinyoung, M/M, Police Officer Jaebum, Siblings, Smut, chosen family, family themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-03-29 09:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13924185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepijr/pseuds/pepijr
Summary: Jaebum and Jinyoung meet after six years with a lot more baggage than they remember.





	1. never so big

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally meant as a sequel to 2012 storyline from nora's diaries but i just shortened the timeline and am posting it as a 3 shot instead of scrapping it bc i cried reading the joy luck club and i wanted to write about mothers and daughters but since i'm neither a mother nor a daughter i have to write about lame ass fathers and sons. 
> 
> anyway, let me know what y'all think !! 
> 
> cheers!

“This is why police officers have partners. To do these things together,” Jaebum says after seconds of neither of them moving. The air in the squad car stands still, as if time has stopped. His partner still doesn’t budge. 

“The number cut off, they probably dialed by accident. Just go check, dude. I’ll be here keeping watch.” Jackson’s voice is high, almost a whine. They stare at each other until Jaebum’s patience thins and he gets out of the car and slams the door closed. He walks towards the worn doors of the apartment building and up its empty stairs. He finds the number quickly on the second floor. 

The building is weathered and the paint on the wall peels in quiet patches. He counts three spiders roaming corners, four cracked tiles on the edges of the floor, and he prays that it isn’t another delirious old man calling to complain about a noise that isn’t there. Jaebum slows his steps in front of the door and takes a breath, adjusts the holster on his belt. 

He knocks on the door once, and, almost immediately, it swings open. Jaebum’s gaze falls and he finds a boy, no older than five, looking up at him. His hair spills in quiet waves that tremble when he lifts his heels off the ground, trying to look taller. 

“Hey,” Jaebum’s voice softens, “Are your parents home? We got a call from this apartment.”

The boy stares with wide eyes, then studies his uniform, stares at the gun on his hip. He shakes his head and reaches for Jaebum’s hand, wraps his tiny fingers around his. He pulls him in and closes the door behind them.

“I called,” he tugs Jaebum to the sofa, pushes him to sit, “I called because you need to arrest Park. He tried to kill me.”

The sofa creaks beneath his weight and the boy climbs up to sit next to him. From where he sits, Jaebum sees another matching couch, a white TV stand with the corners chipped, a tower of dishes peeking over the kitchen counter, and a worn, wooden dining table. He turns back to the kid. 

“Park?” 

“My brother.” He inches closer and closer until he’s sidled up to Jaebum, hugging his arm, resting his head against it. 

“Is he here now?” 

“He’s in the shower.” 

“What did he do?” 

“He took my iPad away,” he says and Jaebum tries not to laugh when the boy starts to whimper, then cry. All this training, he thinks, just to arrive somewhere at the whim of a child. The apartment is small, small enough that Jaebum can hear every sound, from the shower turning off, to the shuffling after. He hears a deep sigh, then yelling. 

“Hyunjin!” 

The boy scrambles to his feet and disappears into the hallway.

“What?!” 

“Did you hide my shaving stuff again?!” 

Jaebum hears more rustling, this time from outside of the bathroom, and then Hyunjin emerges with his hands full of razors. He runs into the kitchen, props open the trash bin and tosses them inside. Then he looks to Jaebum, then to the hallway. He sprints back.

“No, I didn’t!”

“Why do you keep doing this?” 

“I didn’t! I said I didn’t!” 

“You’re lying again!” 

He hears the door open, but from where he sits, he can’t see. Their voices sound more distant, as though they’ve fled into a room. 

“Where did you hide them?” 

“I didn’t hide them!” 

“Where are they?!” 

“You shouldn’t have taken away my iPad! I called the cops, Park, they’re here to arrest you!” 

“What are you talking about?! Just tell me where the razors are.” 

“No!” 

Hyunjin’s yelling gets louder, and soon he darts into the living room.  Halfway across the space, he falls, though he stands again and  stumbles to Jaebum. He pulls on his hands. 

“Go arrest him,” he urges, “Go arrest him now!” 

From the room, Park shouts, “Who are you talking to?!”

Then Park appears. His hair, still wet from the shower, is pushed back, though a few strands stick to his forehead. Stray drops of water slide down his neck, glide over the soft patch of hair in the middle of his chest, creep even lower. They circle around the hair beneath his navel to soak into the towel at his hips. He keeps it there with a fist, wears nothing else except for a thick beard of shaving cream. 

His eyes grow wide, push up full eyebrows. 

“He’s going to arrest you! You’re done, Park!” 

But neither of them listen to Hyunjin, too busy gazing at each other. Jaebum leans forward in his seat, then stands. His expression, full of confusion, unravels into something much warmer, and a curious smile stretches over his lips. Jinyoung’s eyes remain bright with panic. 

“Jaebum?” he asks. His voice is soft, almost timid. 

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, “I think I’m supposed to arrest you.” 

For a moment, the years rewind and Jaebum is nineteen again, Jinyoung eighteen, both wildly in love under a wet sky, kissing under the rain. Young and desperate, fearful of the future. 

Hyunjin’s gaze flits between Jinyoung and Jaebum, swings back and forth until he gets impatient, stamps his foot, tightens his small hands into even smaller fists. His round cheeks are rosy with a childish rage. 

“Stop staring at each other and get me back my iPad!” 

\--

“I’m really sorry about this whole thing,” Jinyoung says, leaning against the frame of the front door. Stubble lines the curve of his chin and his upper lip. Jaebum tries not to stare and shakes his head. 

“It’s fine,” he tells him, catches sight of Hyunjin in the middle of the apartment, jumping so Jaebum can see him behind Jinyoung’s shoulders. He leaps high and waves his arms, face split by a wide, bright grin. Jaebum can’t help but smile back. “Really, it’s usually boring on the job.” 

“A police officer, huh?” Jinyoung looks down at his uniform and Jaebum stands up straighter, squares his shoulders, “Six years makes a lot of difference.” 

“We should catch up sometime,” Jaebum says. He notices the way Jinyoung’s cheeks warm when his gaze falls, avoiding his. Then his head straightens, he smiles and it reaches his eyes, forms small wrinkles beneath them. 

“I would like that.” He pulls out his phone and Jaebum takes it to type in his phone number. 

“I’ll text you later.” 

Jinyoung nods.

They spend a few moments like this, handing the same smile back and forth, holding the same gaze in their eyes,  the one of timid schoolboys who have just encountered their crush. Then Jaebum points a thumb behind him, over his shoulder. 

“My partner is waiting, I should get back.” 

“Do your thing, officer,” Jinyoung says, “Text me.” 

He starts to walk away, and even if he hears the door close behind him, even if he knows that Jinyoung is already inside, he still turns around hoping to catch another glimpse of him.  

\--

“So did you two fuck?” 

Jinyoung chokes on his water, barely manages to swallow. His throat burns as he coughs into his fist and tries to catch his breath. 

“Don’t say things like that, Hyunjin is there,” he whispers, gestures with a nod to the living room where Hyunjin is curled up on the couch, swiping his fingers over an iPad.

“He doesn’t listen when he’s playing that thing, watch.” Jisoo turns towards Hyunjin, then shouts, “Hey, Hyunjin, want to go get pizza?!” 

But Hyunjin continues to swipe with half-closed eyes, looking bored and tired, unaware of the pair at the dining room table. Jisoo turns to Jinyoung with a smile. 

“See?” Her smile tightens into a thin, teasing line. She leans forward and rests her chin on her hands. “So, did you two fuck?” 

“No, of course not. We’re not hormonal teenagers anymore.”

“I mean, from what I remember that’s all you two used to do. That and fight. You think a lot has changed?” 

“It’s been six years,” he sighs and stares at the table as if all those years were there, sitting, waiting to be recognized, to be felt. “Dating him was nice. I think I really loved him...” 

“Then why didn’t you fuck him?” 

“He gave me his number. He said he wanted to catch up.” 

“That’s code for sex. At least for straight men.” 

They glance at each other and sink into their thoughts, both considering the way life unfolds in front of them. Jisoo looks more calculating, while Jinyoung looks mostly overwhelmed. Confused, definitely. Though his reunion with Jaebum has an optimistic glow, he knows heartbreak intimately. Knows its shape, the false hope, all those endless daydreams that lead to nothing. 

Two years after his mother’s death, all Jinyoung knows is working. Working to feed Hyunjin, working to clothe him, to make sure his future is as bright as their mother had dreamed. Anything else escapes him. Jinyoung the romantic, the individual, has been lost beneath layers and layers of responsibilities. He sighs again, though the sound deepens into a groan. He folds his arms and hides his face in them. Jisoo prods his shoulder. 

“Are you going to text him back?” 

“We’ve been texting,” he answers, his voice muffled, “But if all he wants is that, I don’t think I should lead him on. Maybe he just wants to catch up as friends.” 

“Unlikely.”

“I mean, we both grew up.” 

“You’ve got to think about it. At least you stopped seeing Sungjin.” 

His phone vibrates on the table and he lifts his head, unlocks it quickly, smiles just as rapidly when he reads the text from Jaebum. 

“Okay, you’re definitely attached.” 

Jinyoung looks to Jisoo and shakes his head, though it’s impossible to undo his smile. It winds itself tightly to the lines of his lips. 

“He’s just being friendly,” he says, “It’s just as friends.” 

“Friends with benefits, sure.” 

“What are friends with benefits?” Hyunjin asks, suddenly next to them. They both turn to look at him, Jinyoung after choking a second time, Jisoo with wide, worried eyes. Hyunjin glances at both of them before he lifts his iPad in the air.

“Battery died,” he declares, leaves it on the table before walking away. He disappears into one of the bedrooms. 

“He’s sneaky,” Jisoo says, “So what’s he saying? Dirty talk? Sexting?” 

But Jinyoung narrows his eyes and stands up. 

“Let it be,” he says, “Thanks for watching Hyunjin. If I pick up more shifts, I won’t have to get that second job.” 

“Don’t overwork yourself.” 

“I’ll try.” 

\--

Jinyoung pushes through the doors of the skating rink and jogs the rest of the way to the small room lined with neat rows of rental skates. He spots Mark to the side, propped up on a stool. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he pants, out of breath. He tugs off his coat, does away with his hat. 

“Don’t apologize to me,” Mark looks up from the magazine he leafs through, “Boss wants to see you.” 

“Are you serious?” 

Mark’s lips twist into a frown, but he nods and goes back to the magazine. 

“He didn’t seem too happy.” 

A few minutes later, Jinyoung knocks on the small office door until Chansung tells him to come inside. He does as he’s told, claims one of the stiff wooden chairs. Inside, the thick, stale silence and the stray stacks of paper make it hard to breathe. Still, Jinyoung stands as straight as he can, folds his hands in his lap. 

“You’re late again,” Chansung grunts without looking up from his paperwork.

“Sorry, Hyunjin wouldn’t let me leave unless I found--” 

“I don’t care. I’ve heard excuses from you at least fifty times.” 

“I don’t mean to, it just--”

“Look, Jinyoung, if you keep showing up late I’m going to have to fire you. I’ve been lenient, but that’s about to end. Either you come to work on time or you find another job to be late to.” 

Jinyoung watches Chansung write, the slope of his shoulders, unworried and loose, and he feels much older than he is. He’s aware, suddenly, of his own tired bones, and though he wants to protest Chansung, he swallows his words. 

“Okay, sir.” 

Chansung dismisses him with a wave and Jinyoung sulks out of the room, across the empty lobby cluttered with tables, and back into the skate rental room. He sits on a stool next to Mark and slouches into the counter, hides his face in his hands. 

“Was it bad?” Mark asks.

“Kind of.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fine. I tried distracting him but it wouldn’t work,” Mark says. He leans closer and rubs small circles into Jinyoung’s back.

“I just need to be on time. But Hyunjin’s been getting brattier lately.”

“Just ignore him and come to work. He’ll get used to it.” 

“I can’t,” Jinyoung sighs, sits up straight. He stretches his arms above his head and his lips stretch around a yawn, “If I cut him off to go to work, then there’s no point in working.” 

Mark shrugs, goes back to his magazine and Jinyoung fetches his backpack. He fishes out a thick book and a highlighter and starts sifting through it. A minute after, his phone clatters against the counter. He takes it to read the message and his frown breaks to let in a smile. Mark looks up, takes note.

“And who has you smiling so wide for?” 

\--

“Just the ex I told you about, we’ve been texting.” 

“You need to stop fucking your exes, dude.” 

“It’s not like that.” Jaebum sets his phone next to him on the bench before he pulls on his underwear. Jackson stands to his right, still wet and gleaming from his shower. Instead of dressing, he stands in front of the mirror he set up in his locker. He takes time to study himself. First he tenses his biceps, then his triceps, his chest, his stomach. He looks enamored by his own skin, even goes as far as to make faces into the mirror, lifting his eyebrows, clenching his jaw to give it shape. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jaebum asks, “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” 

“I’m just looking at my gains. Aren’t you going to ask out your little boyfriend?” 

“We broke up years ago,” he says, “I’m just trying to catch up.” 

“Bullshit, dude. Just set up a date.” 

“I’m trying, but he’s really busy. He takes care of his little brother.” 

“Then offer to help, dude. Come on, you’ve been out of the game but this is newbie shit.” 

“I’ll see what he says.” Jaebum types a message to Jinyoung before he stands to pull his jeans on, to wrestle into a shirt. Jackson pries his eyes away from his reflection and starts to get dressed, too. But his focus wanders, loses interest in his clothing and when Jaebum’s phone vibrates, he picks it up himself.

“He said he doesn’t want to bother you.” 

“Put my phone back down.” Jaebum pulls down his shirt and reaches for his phone.  

“No,” he says and swats away Jaebum’s hand, “You need some help. Here, let me text back.” 

He types and sends the message before Jaebum can do anything, not that he argues much. When he reads it, though, his jaw goes slack. He feels light, not with joy, but with worry, with impotence. There is nothing he can do to take back Jackson’s message. 

“You make me sound like I just want to fuck.” 

“Did you want to do anything else?” Jackson looks at his flexed arm one last time before he pulls on a shirt. “You’ll thank me later, trust me. It’ll work.” 

He walks away before Jaebum can say anything, leaves behind his towel, his sweaty clothes. Jaebum rolls his eyes as he gathers them with his, curses him under his breath, but he can’t deny that Jackson has nudged him in the right direction. 

Maybe he  _ has _ lost his courage after so many years.  But he can’t help the way time has piled on his shoulders and has forced  him to think of tomorrow and the day after that. Routine has made him soft, but Jinyoung’s return into his life reminds him that he had his wild days, too. That there was a time when they would get in a car and drive until neither one of them knew where they were. Until the only thing they could recognize were each other’s hands, their fingers, their breaths, and the faithful wind sweeping over them. 

And when Jinyoung signs his next text with a heart, Jaebum imagines a breeze brushing over him again. 

\--

A week later, Jinyoung stands at the door of his apartment with a small duffel bag printed with a Batman logo. He drops it at Jaebum’s feet. 

“He’s not allergic to anything, but he’ll tell you he’s deathly allergic to insects. He just hates them. Oh, and he’ll beg nonstop for McDonald’s, but please don’t take him. He always throws up, and I’m not sure why. I think he just eats too fast or something. He doesn’t like seafood, either, but he always wants to try it. Don’t give him any. Jisoo will take care of the rest.” 

Jaebum nods, listening to Jinyoung with a smile. When Jinyoung is done, he asks, “Anything else I should know?” 

“Not for now,” he answers, “I sound kind of crazy, huh?” 

“Just a little, but I like it.” 

Jinyoung gives him a smile, one of the timid ones that sends flutters up his spine.

“I owe you for this one,” Jinyoung says, and, as if remembering something, he looks at his phone. Then he takes a step closer, runs a finger over Jaebum’s hand, lets it settle in the space between his knuckles. He drags his nail over the skin gently.

Jaebum quirks up a brow, feels a familiar passion surface but Jinyoung’s phone starts beeping and he looks down at it with worry.

“I have to go,” he says. He goes to leave but turns around a second later. “Hyunjin’s really excited that you’re picking him up, by the way. I don’t even think he slept last night with how excited he was. He thinks you’re the coolest person I know.” 

At this, Jaebum smiles, a bit wider. He feels proud, somehow, but pride feels different, settles in a new shape. In a form he hasn’t figured out yet. He accepts it, anyway, lets it warm him while he watches Jinyoung leave. 

\--

The location is hard to find, but the daycare is easier to spot. It’s tiny, smaller than Jaebum had imagined, but it pulses with energy, alive with children’s voices, with their refusal to remain still. 

They leave in large, colorful clumps of screaming bodies and worried parents. Jaebum approaches with care, dodges two families, a little girl with pigtails running wild, a confused man spinning in circles. He spots Hyunjin near the center of the commotion, clinging to the skirt of a staff member. He looks worried, turning his head in every way, scanning each body as if searching. When he finds Jaebum, his entire face lights up. 

“There he is!” he yells, tugging on the woman’s skirt. She smiles down at him, pats his head. 

“There he is,” he says again, just as loud, when Jaebum comes closer. 

“Hey, Hyunjin.” Jaebum squats down to his eye-level, smiling, and rests a hand on his shoulder, “Ready to go?” 

“Yes,” he says, then up to the staff, “Thank you, Mrs. Kim.” 

“You’re welcome,” she answers. When Jaebum glances up, she’s looking at him, smiling politely but curious. “And how are you two related?” 

Jaebum opens his mouth to answer but Hyunjin stops him. 

“This is my dad,” he says then nudges Jaebum back, pushing him until he starts walking. He sounds nervous when he turns and yells, “I’m just going with my dad!”

He doesn’t stop pushing until they’re far enough that the daycare is only a dull roar in the distance. Then he sighs, deep and relieved, and fits his hand into Jaebum’s. 

They walk in silence for a moment, and Jaebum listens to the sound of traffic near them, to the sound of the pavement beneath their shoes, Hyunjin’s backpack rattling with every step. He yawns from time to time and Jaebum listens to that, too. 

Then he looks down and asks, “What was that about me being your dad?” 

Hyunjin sighs, and Jaebum is surprised at how much older he looks. 

“I don’t know,” he takes a deep breath, “I don’t know where my dad is and all the other kids have dads so I told Mrs. Kim my dad was going to pick me up and she didn’t believe me! I told them you were my dad. All the kids, even Bambam and Youngjae because they told me I was abandoned. I told them you were a police officer and my dad.” 

Jaebum is confused, mostly speechless, but he still manages to ask, “So your teacher thinks I’m your dad?” 

Hyunjin ignores him, says, instead, “I know you’re not my dad. I just want to pretend you’re my dad when you pick me up. All the other kids have one, and I want one, too. It’s just pretend, you don’t have to be my real dad.” 

They go back to walking in silence until they arrive at Jaebum’s car, and Hyunjin helps him fasten the latches of his car seat. Then Jaebum slips into the driver’s seat and they’re off.

By the time Jaebum thinks of what to say, by the time clarity strikes and places words in his throat, Hyunjin is fast asleep. He remains this way, and Jaebum glances at him through the rearview mirror. He pays attention to the way his neck bends to the side, the way his cheeks look rounder and his lips form an endearing pout that lasts for the rest of the ride to Jisoo’s place. 

\--

He puts a hand on the small of Jinyoung’s back when they arrive at the restaurant, pushes gently as they’re led to their table. Even after six years, he’s certain that under Jinyoung’s coat, beneath the black button-up, is still the same thin waist and firm hips he’d adored. He’s sure that his dimpled back is still smooth, precious, and that his fingers still fit neatly along the curve of his side. 

Jinyoung seems unaware of the way Jaebum watches him, though he has always been unaware. Has always been shy, as if he doesn’t know his own beauty, his own handsome form, and Jaebum has always been happy to remind him. 

Everything about Jinyoung is familiar, like the way he sits up straight until gravity and time makes him slouch. From time to time he’ll remember and square his shoulders but soon, as always, they curve again. Watching him, Jaebum gets the sense that he’s seen this play out before, this scene, but he watches faithfully and lovingly. Still in awe, as if he’s meeting him for the first time. 

Jinyoung still blushes when Jaebum stares for too long, blushes when Jaebum smiles and winks in his direction. He reaches over the table when the waiter leaves, runs a finger over Jinyoung’s chin and says, “You shaved.” 

Jinyoung’s cheeks flush deeper and he pretends to look, instead, at the menu. 

“I hide the razors better than Hyunjin,” he declares, and Jaebum notices how his lips curl at the edges. His ears still poke out endearingly, his nose is still round, perfect. His lips are still lush, and Jinyoung still hides his smile with the back of his hand. His eyebrows are still full, and they still push together when his face wrinkles with worry, when a soft pout pulls at his lips as he listens to Jaebum’s story.

“Did you get hurt badly?” he asks and Jaebum shakes his head. 

“It was only a knife, it wasn’t too bad. What about you? How long have you been living with Hyunjin?” 

Jinyoung tenses for a second, his fingers wrapped around a fork. But then it passes and he looks relieved, relaxed, like sunlight breaking past a slew of rain clouds. 

“Well, we moved to Seoul about a year ago. But we’ve been living together for two. After you and me broke up, I went back to Seattle. Then Jisoo got a job here and we all just moved back.” 

“Jisoo, that’s your best friend, right?” 

“Yeah, since we were five.” 

“She doesn’t live with you?” 

“No, she’s teaching at a private school and they give her a nice apartment. Do you live alone?”

Jaebum looks up and smiles, though the shape is somber. 

“Sadly,” he says and fills his mouth with food before he dares to say more.  

They talk for another hour, but time treads slowly. Jaebum understands the words, hears them chime in his ears like bells, but his focus is on Jinyoung, the way his lips move and build shapes to undo them with the next syllable. He pays attention to the sway of his hand, his light lean to the left, the tremble in his right shoulder when he laughs. He misses this, misses Jinyoung, he thinks, but he hadn’t known until now.

He misses making Jinyoung grin, wide and reckless. He misses his laughter. He misses the feeling, too, of attraction. A gravity that never quite leaves, only awakens in moments like these with the clink of silverware between them, with their voices rising in the air like music, mixing with the commotion of the restaurant. But he realizes this is the first time it arrives so heavily, the first time it pulls on him so strongly that it seems like his entire body wants to close the space between them. 

His entire body leans forward as if his bones were aching to touch him. As if the blood that pounds through him, that warms him, were chasing Jinyoung, seeking warmth, a home. 

Every piece of him wants him to move across the table, wants to embrace Jinyoung just to have him close. Just to wish back that year they spent together, one of the most beautiful, one of the most tragic. Filled with petty fights, angry lovemaking. With yelling, shouting for joy, for their fears, and for the words they couldn’t say but burned at their throats. 

And only the bright memories return, none of the shadows. He no longer sees the danger of the sea, only the moon fractured over its waves, the dimly lit tide rushing to the shore. A fading fog and the lighthouse guiding him home. 

He no longer sees the differences between Jinyoung and him, only what brought them together in the first place, what brings them together now. They both have that look in their eye -- a sadness that doesn’t leave, that doesn’t sleep, only remains, searching for someone else’s company. 

And he means to say this, means to say what he feels, what he means, what he intends, but when he goes to speak, all that comes out is, “I missed you.” 

And, a second later, “You’re beautiful.” 

Across the table, Jinyoung pauses. His eyebrows rise and form small wrinkles on his forehead from where his eyes grow wide. His ears are the first to turn a soft pink, darken to a light red, then the color pours into his cheeks, and Jaebum decides he’s still the most precious man he knows. 

And even if time moves slowly, the date ends too fast.

“We better get going,” Jinyoung says and Jaebum wonders if this warm feeling, the flutter in his chest, the sudden calmness in everything, has been one-sided. 

\--

“I’m still studying for the bar exam. I graduated last year, but I’m afraid to take it,” Jinyoung tells him when they arrive at his apartment. The night flickers with an unnamed magic, so that even in the dark of the room, before he flips on the switch, Jinyoung is almost sure Jaebum glows. It’s enough to make him feel timid in a way he hasn’t for years, and it’s enough for him to go back to that time when he allowed himself to fight, to laugh, to scream at the top of his lungs. He takes a breath and leads Jaebum inside.

He remembers Jisoo’s words and he wonders about Jaebum’s intentions, if he really had been interested in catching up. Though, by the way he’s been looking at him all night, he figures he’s uninterested. In the details, at least. 

“Do you remember the last thing you said to me?” Jaebum asks and Jinyoung shakes his head. He takes off his coat, leaves it on the couch. He’s aware of Jaebum’s eyes on him, so he takes his time, folds the garment just so he has reason to lean over, to curve his back. This is what Jaebum wants, he thinks, and for a second he decides this is what he wants, too. Nothing more, nothing deep. 

“You said if we were single by thirty, we should get married.” 

Jinyoung turns with a smile, teasing as Jaebum steps closer.

“You still have to wait five years,” he says. 

Then Jaebum’s hands are on him, pulling him close, hugging him tight.  He takes a hold of Jinyoung’s legs and wraps them around him. He lifts him up until he’s carrying Jinyoung and stepping down the hall. Jinyoung holds on to broad shoulders, wraps one arm around his neck, blind as he kisses Jaebum with a small sound in his throat. His lips are familiar, as is his tongue, his mouth. Only his body is different. Jaebum drops him on the bed and Jinyoung looks up, peering through the dark to study the differences six years has made. 

Jaebum’s shoulders look wider, his arms more built. The muscles harden and stretch as he tears off his blazer and shirt, so rough that Jinyoung fears the buttons might snap. He undoes his belt and Jinyoung licks his lips, starts undoing the buttons of his own shirt. He pulls it off, tosses it to the side just as Jaebum joins him in bed. Jinyoung slides a hand across Jaebum’s chest, pleased to feel that it’s swollen over the years. The muscles harden under his fingers when Jaebum reaches for his leg, tense when he pulls Jinyoung on top of him.

“Where did this come from?” he pants, sitting up on Jaebum’s thighs, his hands still busy roaming Jaebum’s chest. He rubs upwards, watches the muscle follow his fingers. Jaebum’s chest hardens under his touch, no matter how much he kneads or strokes the flesh. 

“I work out a lot,” Jaebum pants, sucking in a breath when Jinyoung inches back on his thighs, lowers a hand down his smooth chest, his taut middle, and his stomach to rub at his groin. His fingers are quick to unbutton his slacks, to undo the zipper.

“I think I missed you,” Jinyoung says, slipping his fingers into his underwear, wrapping them around Jaebum’s cock, “I missed this more, though.” 

Jaebum juts out his jaw with an exhale and Jinyoung bends down to kiss its edge, its shape. He kisses down to his neck, lets his tongue drag over his collarbones. Then his lips travel south,  kiss the middle of his chest , ghost over his nipple. He slows so he can feel Jaebum’s heart against his lips, can feel every breath coming up to meet him, rising and falling against his ribs. Jaebum’s breathing moves Jinyoung’s lips as he sucks different patches of skin until marks blossom. 

Then Jaebum tenses and Jinyoung sits up.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but once the question settles, he hears it, too: someone struggling to fit the key inside the lock in front. Muffled voices press against the door, one low, one high and small, like a whistle, and Jinyoung realizes Mark and Hyunjin are home. 

“Fuck, I told him it would be over late,” he says, and climbs off Jaebum to look for his shirt. Jaebum does the same and they both stumble around, pulling on shirts, tucking them in, fastening belts. By the time Mark steps inside and Hyunjin runs in, Jinyoung is breathing heavy at the door of his room, smiling awkwardly with his shirt untucked and his legs crossed.

Hyunjin doesn’t seem to care much, slips into his room, shouting over his shoulder, “Hi Park!” 

“You’re home early,” Jinyoung says and Mark smiles at him. 

“You are, too, I thought your date was going to last longer.” Mark’s eyes fall to his shirt, his pose, then rise and Jinyoung is sure Jaebum has emerged behind him, just as flushed, just as breathless. Mark’s lips round with surprise first, then stretch into a thin line of understanding. 

“Sorry,” he mouths but Jinyoung shakes his head. 

“No, it’s fine,” he says with a sigh, aware, suddenly, of his life. Then he turns to Jaebum, “Let me walk you to your car.” 

\--

Jinyoung sits in the passenger seat and plays with his fingers in his lap. 

“Sorry about that,” he says.

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s really hard to do much with Hyunjin around. He’s still so little.” 

“He’s cute.” 

“When he wants to be,” he pauses to take a breath, turns to Jaebum, “Thank you for tonight.” 

“It was fun. Let’s see each other again.”

Jinyoung nods, though his gaze falls to where Jaebum’s shirt hangs open, the sliver of skin that peeks between loose buttons. After six years, Jaebum looks just as handsome as he did, more so now that the streetlamps bathe him in soft shades of yellow highlights and blue shadows. 

He leans forward and tries to pick up where they left off. His hand finds Jaebum’s chest again and roams lower and lower until he’s fiddling with his belt and the button on his slacks. They kis s, slowly, and their tongues glide, as though spreading around the taste, as though searching, learning. Memorizing the sensation, the heat. The wet shape of their mouth and the smooth lines of teeth. 

When Jinyoung finally undoes the button, he hears a car door open. Someone walks past them, and even if it’s dark, even if he’s sure no one will see them, they both sit up straight and stare forward. Jinyoung swallows loudly while Jaebum shifts in his seat. From the corner of his eye, he watches Jaebum redo the button on his slacks and fasten his belt. 

“I better go,” Jinyoung says when Jaebum is done, and they both nod and lean in for another kiss, this one chaste and quick and it inspires a fluttering in his stomach. Though it doesn’t settle at the bottom, instead the sensation floats higher and higher until it tickles at his heart. He pulls the handle of the door and steps out.

“Let’s see each other again,” he says before the door closes. 

\--

Jinyoung leans against his front door with a smile. His eyes close and he imagines himself in that time again, when he used to date Jaebum. The afternoons he would spend bored out of his mind in the summer. The sweat clinging to his clothes, his body stretched and loose as he waited for Jaebum to arrive. He remembers the rush of excitement that poured into him when he heard his key at the door, how his world was nothing but waiting for Jaebum, and then Jaebum himself. The thought of having that life again, of feeling the heat of romance, its warm glow, the light bliss, excites him. 

When he opens his eyes, Hyunjin is staring at him from the hallway. 

“Park, are you okay?” he asks and Jinyoung nods.  Mark appears behind him, his face twisted in worry. 

“What’s wrong?” Jinyoung asks. 

“He spilled his juice on the sheets,” Mark says and Jinyoung sighs. 

He tumbles from his daydream, lands into reality: the small, cramped apartment. The thin walls, the old couch. He walks past the mess of the kitchen to the hallway, into Hyunjin’s room. Most of their money has been poured into here -- clean, blue walls with Batman posters tacked to the walls, a chest full of toys, a soft bed and matching sheets -- but Hyunjin, somehow, has kept it the messiest place in the apartment. Jinyoung has to step over three toys, a shirt, and a plastic cup to get to his bed. He empties his lungs with a sigh while he runs his fingers over the wet shapes on the bedding. 

His thoughts try to fly back to Jaebum but he reels them back in, breaks them in half, throws them somewhere he won’t be able to remember. 

Of course there is no room for him there, he thinks, pulling off the covers, assessing the damage. There is no room for anything in his life anymore. He would love to try again when Hyunjin gets older, when Jinyoung doesn’t have to take care of him at every turn, but it would be cruel to make Jaebum wait. Some things aren’t meant to be, he tells himself, and turns around to face Mark and Hyunjin with a smile. 

They both look worried and apologetic. 

“Sorry, Park,” Hyunjin says but Jinyoung shakes his head, swallows the anger that rises to his throat like smoke. 

“Just be careful next time.” 

This is his life, he thinks, changing the sheets on Hyunjin’s bed. This is his life, and nothing else. Jisoo’s words still rattle around in his head. 

\--

“Would you ever date anyone with a kid?” 

Jackson doesn’t answer at first, instead leans his head back. His wet hair glistens, some of it sticking to his forehead, some of it behind his ears. His arms are propped up at the edge of the bath and the steam rises from the water and curls, loops into itself. It frames Jackson so that, at a glance, he looks like a scene from a movie, seductive and casual. Then, slowly, as if giving a performance, he straightens his neck, his eyes flit open. 

“You mean like MILFs?” 

“No, I mean, like, someone younger.” 

Jackson hums, considers it.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Jaebum shifts from where he sits, stretches his legs out and watches the water move and settle around them, always in unrest. 

“But why?” 

“I just wouldn’t feel comfortable. We’re young. We have our whole lives ahead of us -- if you already have a kid, then you’re probably looking to get married. I don’t want that. I mean. I already have enough family as it is. They’re not even in the same country as I am but they stress me out enough. Can you believe having your own?” 

But Jaebum can’t imagine. He thinks of his own family, cut short by an accident when he was twelve. He remembers the emptiness of the years that followed, that feeling of floating from home to home, raised by uncles or aunts or grandparents. Rootless and bound to nothing. 

Even now, he doesn’t speak to them. Family, for him, doesn’t exist -- it can’t exist. He can’t rebuild something that was never there, he can’t be annoyed at strangers. He can’t shout at empty spaces, not anymore, so he sinks deeper into the water, hopes the heat can do away with his thoughts. Then Jackson speaks up, finds his toes in the water with his. 

“Cheer up man, just because I don’t want to, doesn’t mean you shouldn't. Just go for it.” 

“Isn’t it weird, though? Won’t it hurt the kid?” 

“Just set your boundaries and talk about it beforehand, it can’t hurt. You can set rules and shit. Don’t fall down without anyone pushing you. Give it a shot.” 

Jaebum lifts a wet arm to run his fingers through his hair, as though he were combing out every worry, every hesitant doubt. His eyes close and he breathes in. The air no longer feels humid. It slides in clear, gentle. 

\--

Two weeks later they sit at a park bench and watch Hyunjin run through the grass, chasing a drone around. Jinyoung fidgets in his seat. Sunlight falls in bright patches, and Jinyoung has to squint from time to time to keep track of Hyunjin. 

“Sorry I haven’t been able to hang out,” he says, fully aware that all Jaebum wants is to sleep with him, “It’s been busy at work, and then Hyunjin…”

His voice trails off and he wonders why Jaebum agreed to this. There’s nothing to gain from watching Hyunjin sprint across the park -- there’s nothing to do except wait, and after Jinyoung has to head to work. He doesn’t even have the time to be friends with benefits, and he wonders why he’d ever thought that they had the chance to even date again. But Jaebum turns to him and rests his hand on his thigh. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Hyunjin’s fun.” 

“But you don’t want to hang out with him. It’s just hard finding the time. And I know you just want…”

“Want what?” 

“Nothing, forget it.” Jinyoung says, shaking his head. He looks away from him, his focus on Hyunjin who has led his drone into a bush. He starts to dig it out with his hands. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Jinyoung says nothing, too focused on Hyunjin. The leaves on the bush mix with the color of his sweater as he digs deeper and deeper, his head disappearing into the branches. 

“I was talking to Jackson and he thought it would be a good idea to talk about things first.”

“Talk about what?” 

“You know, us.” 

“What about us?” 

“He says I should be prepared if we ever want to--” 

Hyunjin’s shrieking cuts him off. It takes a second for the sound to pierce the air, another for Jinyoung to stand, to sprint to where he is. Hyunjin is already tumbling out of the bush, raising his hand above him. 

“The bee stung me, Park, I’m going to die! I’m going to die!” Hyunjin starts screaming again and Jinyoung rubs his head, his cheeks, then hoists him up into his arms. When he turns, Jaebum is there, next to him. 

“Sorry, Jaebum, I have to head home. He doesn’t stop crying unless he gets his Batman band-aids.” 

“It’s no problem -- I’ll go with you.” 

Guilt washes over him like cold, running water. 

It startles him enough that he can see things for what they are: they had dated, yes, but the circumstances have changed. They are no longer the same people they once knew, so different, in fact, that even the memories feel borrowed. As if they happened to someone else, someone without a brother to take care of, someone with more time, with more freedom. As if Jaebum had fallen in love with someone other than him. 

“You don’t have to, it’s fine. Enjoy your day.” 

“No, I’ll go with you. I want to spend time with you.” 

“I have to get Hyunjin home,” he says again and starts to walk. Jaebum takes his arm, catches up to him. He looks worried, a bit uncomfortable, and Jinyoung feels guilty. 

“I want to make sure he’s okay, too.” His voice is low, sounds genuine, but all Jinyoung hears in the back of his head is an echo telling him it isn’t worth it. This pretending, this shabby life. There is a world out there for Jaebum to roam and people for him to meet. Anything out there shines brighter than whatever Jinyoung has to offer. So he shakes his head and keeps walking.

“It’s okay, he’ll be fine. You don’t have to pretend to care or anything.” 

“I’m not pretending, I want to go. I swear.” 

“I know what you want,” he says, “You don’t have to worry about Hyunjin like that. We aren’t dating.” 

“But I want to. I want to date you.” 

Hyunjin’s cries have simmered down to a few whimpers, and Jinyoung scratches the back of his head with his fingers. Then rubs at his back. He looks at Jaebum and his eyes and how they widen, look hopeful. He sees a future there, and it hurts to know that he isn’t part of it, that he left so many doors unopened, unexplored. He thought they would have forever.

He sighs and holds Hyunjin closer. 

“It’s not a good idea.” 

“Why not? I think it is.” 

“This is going to happen constantly,” he says, a bit desperate, “There is no way a relationship can happen. I don’t want you to spend your time trying to make it happen, either. Look, you have your life, I have mine. I’m sure there’s other people dying for a chance to date you.” 

“But I want to try it with you,” Jaebum says and he looks younger than usual, boyish. Jinyoung’s heart tightens with a bout of nostalgia. Six years suddenly feels so short. 

“It’s not just me anymore. Things change, Jaebum. I can’t just do what I want.” 

“We can work on it.” 

“I’m not in a good place, okay? I don’t want to drag you down with me.” 

“You won’t.” 

By now they’ve reached his car and Jinyoung does his best to prop open the door and put Hyunjin in his car seat. He fastens every buckle as Hyunjin continues to rub his eyes and whine, but the tears have already stopped.

Then he closes the door and faces Jaebum. 

“It’s just not a good time. You’re doing good, Jaebum. You’ve got a lot going for you. Find someone moving up, it’ll be better.” 

He doesn’t give Jaebum time to respond and gets into his car instead. He ignores the way his hands shake, ignores how his eyes sting. He looks in the rearview mirror when he drives away, makes out Jaebum’s shape at the edge of the sidewalk growing smaller and smaller. 

\--

For a while, Jaebum accepts it -- he has to. Jinyoung stops texting him back, Hyunjin fades from his memory. For a few weeks, it’s as though nothing has changed. As if they’d never reunited.  

But there are moments when it comes rushing back, not the things that happened, not what he saw, or what he felt. These are new moments, he knows, because Hyunjin has never been in Jaebum’s apartment but he hears him running through the halls. Laughter fills empty rooms, footsteps line the floors. Sometimes he hears Hyunjin rummaging through the kitchen drawers.

These are hopeful daydreams, like when he opens the door after working for twelve straight hours and finds the thick quiet hard to walk through. He stumbles into his room, barely gets undressed before he drops on his bed. His eyes creak open, and for a second he sees Jinyoung there, smiling on the other side of the mattress, reaching over to soothe the pain on his shoulder, to run his fingers over the scar on his side. 

When he reaches over to touch Jinyoung, he wakes up, and the silence reappears. 

It’s these daydreams, the domestic ones, that most arouse him. When he closes his eyes, he dreams of belonging somewhere. He dreams of having somewhere to rest his head, someone to talk to late at night, someone who’s there when he needs them. Someone who listens to his complaints, plucks them from Jaebum’s head to pull them apart, to make sense of them. He dreams of broken vases that lead to laughter, dreams of a constant presence pulsing through his home, through his ribs, through the halls of his mind. 

He dreams of having a family.

“I don’t think that’s right,” Jackson says when Jaebum tells him. Jackson stretches out on the couch, groans when his bones crack. 

“How do you know?” Jaebum returns, settles on the floor in front of him. Jackson clicks play and the movie begins. 

“You’re still young, how could you want a family? Who’s going to have the baby?”

“Nobody, I don’t know.”

“Maybe you have a kink.” 

“Is that even a thing?” 

“Sure, you want him to call you daddy or hubby or something.”

“That’s not it. I think I just need a change.” Jackson nods, then faces him. 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why are you watching the movie -- go win your man.” 

Excitement bubbles inside of him. The seconds that fall start to float, glowing with energy, with the promise of novelty. He stands, suddenly, and goes to grab his keys.

“Just remember to take some condoms, some flowers, and some chocolates. It can get pretty heated,” Jackson calls, settling deeper into the couch, “I’ll house sit while you go do that.” 

\--

He only buys the flowers, but he figures it’s enough. In his car, he combs his bangs to one side, then to the other. He lets them fall forward, straight, but in the last moment, he pushes it all back. His steps are nervous, though once he knocks on the door, he stands straight, proud, confident. Jinyoung had fallen for him once and he’s sure that now, six years later, he’ll fall again.

Jisoo opens the door, slowly as though afraid of what she’ll find on the other side. Hyunjin runs down the hall and towards the door.

“Jaebum!” he shrieks.

“Jaebum,” Jisoo says, lower. Her eyes fall to the flowers and her expression grows worried, tentative. “What are you doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” Jaebum says, gleaming, shrugging, bursting at the seams with renewed energy, “Is Jinyoung home? I want to talk to him.” 

“He’s out,” Jisoo says, “He’ll be back later.” 

“He’s with Sungjin!” Hyunjin yells, then puckers his lips, mimics kissing. “They’re going to make out and eat dinner all night.” 

“Hyunjin, don’t say that,” Jisoo says, but Jaebum’s mood has already plummeted. His heart sinks low and he feels it pulse against his stomach. A slow sound fills the space in his ribs, replaces his heartbeat, and its rhythm is dull, heavy. 

Jisoo, as if noticing the shift in mood, says, “I’ll tell him you came by.” 

She sounds more distant than she is, and Jaebum only nods, heads back out of the apartment building. He throws away the flowers in a trash can and sits in his car. He looks forward in silence and thinks back on his life, what has led him here, what other endings he could have found. He wonders, too, why he’s so stuck on Jinyoung of all people. He tries to find faults in his nature, but he can’t seem to do so. 

He likes the way he stands, nervous, as if things could go wrong at any second. He likes how Jinyoung dotes on Hyunjin for too long and how they both fight as if there wasn’t a twenty-year age gap. He likes his laughter in the evening, likes his nagging in the morning. He likes knowing that there’s an entire past between them, and the promise of a future. 

But none of that matters, he realizes. He pulls out of the parking spot and tries to leave thoughts of Jinyoung along with the flowers in the trash bin, where the petals have probably been torn, where they mix with the rest of the things people forget or leave behind or discard indifferently. 

\--

He does well, for the most part, the not thinking of Jinyoung. Work tires him out, and Jackson helps fill in the quiet moments. He talks of setting up Jaebum on a date, but Jaebum claims not to be ready, not to be available. 

At home, he spends his time cleaning until there is nothing to clean, and then he starts reorganizing for the sake of keeping busy. For the sake of tiring himself out enough that he passes out when he drapes his tired limbs over his bed, and he has no time to think about waking up alone. 

And when he finally forgets him, when Jinyoung has slipped from his thoughts, nothing more than a low flicker, his phone lights up and Jinyoung’s number appears. He thinks not to answer, but his body moves by itself. His finger swipes to accept the call and his arm presses it against his ear.

“Hello,” he says, tries not to sound eager. But it isn’t Jinyoung’s voice on the other line, it’s Hyunjin’s.

“Jaebum! Jaebum, come,” his voice cuts off as he starts sobbing and sniffling, “Park is dying!”

“Where are you?! What’s happening?!” 

“I’m at home, but Park is dying! He’s going to die!” 


	2. crazy little thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alsdkfj this is really hard for me to write bc i don't really enjoy the story.... i'll probably post the last chapter unedited like this one though and then delete the work after a week or two ,, thank you for reading always <3

Hyunjin opens the door when Jaebum arrives, though he is no longer crying. He only frowns and clasps his short fingers around Jaebum’s hand. 

“Don’t go in there yet,” he whispers. 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” 

Hyunjin’s face wrinkles with worry, with sadness, and his hair trembles when he shakes his head, almost hopelessly. He tears up and takes his hands from Jaebum’s to rub his eyes until they’re dry. 

“He’s dying,” he whimpers, “He kept throwing up and he won’t wake up. I think Sungjin poisoned him.”

The mention of Sungjin pains Jaebum, though it’s a small sting compared to his worry -- nothing more than a pinprick of pain. So he ignores his jealousy and does his best to walk as quietly as he can across the apartment as Hyunjin commands. 

“So you don’t scare him,” Hyunjin explains. He also walks on his toes and holds on to the wall as if balancing his weight, set on not disturbing the silence. 

A slant of light filters into Jinyoung’s room from the hallway and it’s low enough to drain out the color and to hide shapes in thick shadows. It takes a second for Jaebum’s eyes to start adjusting and for the room to emerge from the dark: the shape of the dresser jumps at him, the curtains sway into sight, and even the bed, painfully plain, looks surprised to be seen. Jaebum tiptoes around it, careful not to agitate the room with motion, and stands over Jinyoung. His eyes narrow and try to pluck Jinyoung’s frame from the shadows, as if pulling him out of a dark lake. He finds a shoulder first, looking thin and vulnerable. He makes out his arm next, then his neck, his cheeks, hips. Then, as if fearful, the shadows start to flee. Jaebum’s vision settles and his eyes adjust. The room finally lightens. 

Jinyoung’s limbs are sprawled out, his legs crooked, covers strewn over him. The light carves out a frown on his lips, and the shadows reveal the light puffiness of his eyes. He looks pained, almost, definitely uncomfortable, and Jaebum collects the details like clues. They all point to Jinyoung having a hangover. 

“Your brother’s going to be fine,” Jaebum says. He turns to where Hyunjin stands next to him and notices that Hyunjin has crossed his arms, too, mimicking his posture. Jaebum’s heart feels light for a moment, as if full of balloons, and he is struck by urge to pat Hyunjin’s head. 

Hyunjin takes a deep breath and shakes his head, closes his eyes. He looks focused on what he does, intent on every movement, as if performing. 

“Park is going to kill me with worry,” he says with a flair, a dramatic sigh, and Jaebum snorts a little too loud. Jinyoung stirs awake. He sits up, suddenly, rubbing his head. It takes him a moment to situate himself, to take note of the sheets wrapped around his middle, the shirt crawling up his torso, the pairs of eyes on him. 

“What are you guys doing here?” 

“I called Jaebum,” Hyunjin says as he climbs on the bed and hugs Jinyoung’s middle, “I thought you were dying.” 

Jinyoung’s lips part, but he says nothing -- his eyebrows push together, he looks confused, disengaged. As though he isn’t sure if he’s still sleeping, still dreaming. Then his eyes fall on Jaebum and his expression leans towards guilt. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t -- I should’ve locked my phone.” 

“You did,” Hyunjin chimes as he peels himself away and hops off the bed, “I unlocked it with your thumb while you were sleeping.” 

Then he leaves the room and Jinyoung and Jaebum are left alone to wallow in their silence. Jinyoung avoids his gaze, but Jaebum does the opposite: his eyes roam over Jinyoung, drink in the curve of his waist, the rounded lines of his thighs. He hasn’t seen him in a month but it seems like much longer, even more than six years. He wants to reach out and touch him but when he shifts his weight on his feet, Jinyoung groans and rubs his eyes, then falls back into bed. His shirt rises further and Jaebum stares at his belly button and the thin line of hair that grows beneath it. 

“I’m so sorry, Jaebum,” he says again, “I’ll pay for your gas or something. I can’t fucking believe he made you come.” 

“It’s fine, it’s my day off,” Jaebum answers and takes a seat at the edge of the bed. He reaches under the sheet to rest a hand against Jinyoung’s calves. He slides his hand up and down the warm expanse of skin, amused by the small hairs that grow there and prickle against his fingers. 

Jinyoung is unresponsive, or pretends to be. Though, from what Jaebum remembers when they dated, he’s a talented actor. 

“I meant to call you,” Jinyoung says. His toes wiggle and he tilts to Jaebum’s touch, inches closer, though slowly, like a flower beckoned to blossom. 

“No you didn’t.” Jaebum lets his fingers rise higher to Jinyoung’s knee. He taps a finger over its shape and he watches the sheet ripple when he slides his palm up the inside of Jinyoung’s thigh. His thumb presses down on smooth skin and Jinyoung stops breathing. He tenses for a second, then goes slack when Jaebum’s hand keeps climbing until his fingers find the bottom of his underwear. He slips his thumb under it, pulls the fabric higher. He traces the line where Jinyoung’s inner thigh meets his hip. 

“I did,” Jinyoung mumbles, sounds close to whining, “I didn’t know how.” 

“You just dial,” Jaebum sighs, agitated. He lifts his hand away completely, then changes his mind, lets it rest over Jinyoung’s groin. Jinyoung is hard, he notes, and Jaebum feels the outline of his erection against his palm. He moves his thumb until he can feel where the head of the cock is pressed against the front of his underwear. He finds the spot right under the tip as best as he can, where the nerves are most sensitive and he pinches the skin there -- Jinyoung groans. His whole body writhes, his hips rut upwards, beg for something more than just teasing but Jaebum pulls his hand away. He stands. 

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung pants. His eyes creak open and he props himself up on his elbows. He pleads with his eyes. 

“I’m sure Sungjin does it better,” Jaebum says, smiling. He winks at Jinyoung before he walks towards the door, ignores the warm yank in his stomach and the dull throb of blood rushing south. 

“Hyunjin,” he calls, “Let’s go get your brother some medicine.”

\--

To his surprise, Hyunjin behaves in the small corner store they find. He walks around with his hand pressed neatly in Jaebum’s, and when Jaebum stops to look at hangover remedies and grabs a few pills, Hyunjin stands at his side and hooks a hand on Jaebum’s belt. With the other, he pokes at some of the pills on display, pretending to read.  

“Are these going to save Park?” 

“Yes, they are. It’s so he’ll be hydrated.” 

“I didn’t bring any money,” Hyunjin says, sounds defeated. 

“I’m going to pay for them, don’t worry. You can tell him you bought them.” 

Hyunjin perks up, “We’re buying them because we don’t want Park to die?” 

“We don’t want him to die, you’re right.” 

“Because we care about him?” 

“Of course, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin answers, nodding, “We both care about him, but you’re paying. Do you care about him a lot?” 

Jaebum hesitates, then says, “Yes, I do.”

“And you don’t want him to be in pain?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“And you want him to be around?”

“Yes.” 

“And you want him to be happy again?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Because you love him?” 

“Yes,” Jaebum says before thinking, before it all makes sense. When he realizes what he said, though, he doesn’t correct himself. There is love, he believes, somewhere inside of him, resting in forgotten corners and weary bones, waiting for the right moment to emerge and tell him that, yes, he is in love with Jinyoung. Or so he hopes. 

But soon, they’re in motion again, and he leaves his thoughts to walk through the aisles with Hyunjin. 

“Don’t you like to run around?” he asks when they exit one and Hyunjin shows no signs of escaping, or even wanting to. Hyunjin shakes his head and tugs Jaebum towards the shelves of snacks in the corner. 

“Why not?” 

“One time Park left me at a store,” he turns to Jaebum with wide, scared eyes, “He said he forgot. I have to make sure he remembers me. I stay close.” 

Jaebum tries not to smile, but the shape comes anyway. It teases the edges of his lips, twists them into a curve that feels light and comfortable and makes him wonder why he doesn’t smile this way more often. Hyunjin, without letting go of Jaebum’s hand, reaches for a bag of gummies. 

“I won’t forget you at a store,” Jaebum says. 

“That’s why you’re my dad,” Hyunjin answers and without another word they head toward the cash register. Hyunjin tosses his bag of candy on the counter and wraps his fingers around the edge. Then he stands on his toes to peer over the counter. He watches the cashier intently and the cashier stares back. 

“Hi, there,” he says. 

Hyunjin, sounding serious and worried, says, “Hello.” Then, a beat later, “I’m Hyunjin.” 

“Hi, Hyunjin. I’m Yugyeom.” 

They both stare at each other for a few seconds before Yugyeom starts to scan the box of pills, the aspirin, the two bottles of sports drinks, and the gummies.

“This is Jaebum, my dad,” Hyunjin tells him. Yugyeom nods in Jaebum’s direction. 

“He’s my dad,” Hyunin continues, “He’s buying these for Park because he loves him.”

Jaebum’s cheeks warm with color. He opens his mouth to speak but Yugyeom’s voice cuts him off. Yugyeom smiles at Hyunjin and asks, “Really?” 

“Yeah, one time they held hands at the park. And another time they went on a date.” 

At this, Jaebum reaches down to rest a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder, squeezes gently. Then he meets Yugyeom’s eyes. He expects to find disgust or shock, but he finds something else, something warm and welcoming. 

“Sorry, it’s not like that,” Jaebum tries to explain but Yugyeom shakes his head. He tosses all their things in a bag and points to the total.

“No worries, you don’t have to pretend,” he says. Then he flips his wrist with a smile and peels off the bandaid there to show Jaebum a small tattoo of an equal sign. Jaebum is suddenly aware of Yugyeom’s empathetic nodding, his understanding eyes.

“I’m an ally,” Yugyeom announces and Jaebum fights a groan. 

\--

“You didn’t have to do this.” Jinyoung sits up on his bed and swallows a pill with a swig of a drink. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and turns to face Jaebum, who sits on the edge of the bed. “Really.” 

“Don’t worry, I want to,” Jaebum says, and he means it, truly. Jinyoung is a soothing presence. His worries don’t melt away, neither do his pains, but everything feels distant when he's around him -- like the room, holding only them, is a fantasy he escapes to. Like Jinyoung, with his puffy eyes and their tired shape, is nothing more than a dream he loves. Always peaceful, always charming, but always out of reach. It numbs him. 

“I didn’t mean for you to find out the way you did.”

“About what?” Jaebum asks, though he knows what Jinyoung’s referring to. Still, he avoids his eyes and finds Jinyoung’s foot, instead, and holds it in his hands. He rubs soft circles into it with his thumbs and tries to focus on its lines and shape and anything but the scalding jealousy that splashes around in his head. . 

“Sungjin,” Jinyoung pauses, takes a breath, lets his eyes flutter shut as Jaebum deepens the massage, “I’m not seeing him anymore.” 

“You could have told me you wanted to date him instead of me. You didn't have to lie to me.” Jaebum jabs his thumb into his foot and Jinyoung twitches with a squeal. He tries to pull away but Jaebum clasps his ankle and holds him in place. No matter how much Jinyoung struggles, he keeps his hold tight -- he wants to make sure Jinyoung knows his strength. Then, after glaring for a moment, he continues his massage, lightly this time. 

“Sorry,” Jinyoung’s voice is small, “I didn’t want to date him over you, and I didn't lie. I still don’t think it’s a good idea -- not now, anyway. Hyunjin is still small. Sungjin… I thought going back with him would make me think less of you.” 

“Did it?” 

“No,” he leans back to rest on the bed with a hum and Jaebum moves on to the other foot, “I think about you a lot. But I know it’s for the better. I can’t push all that responsibility on you.” 

“What if I want it?” 

“It’s just not a good idea, Jaebum.” 

“And who are you to decide for me?”

Jinyoung doesn’t answer. Instead he lays, silently, until Jaebum’s fingers slow. He still holds his foot in his hands, but his touches have grown light, barely there. Instead of massaging, Jaebum spends his time studying them, from his heel to the arch to his toes. Even this part of him is pretty, he thinks. 

“It’s not a good time.” 

“When is? Just tell me a time, and I’ll wait.”

“I don’t want you to wait. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair that you can decide for me, and then you go around dating someone else. I’m not asking you to change anything. I’m not asking you to be fair. Let’s just give it a shot. Let me help you, too. You’re struggling, you don’t have to pretend you aren’t.” 

Jinyoung sighs. “When I can pay for Hyunjin’s private school, we can date.” 

Jaebum sighs, too, though his leaves through a smile. He starts to play with Jinyoung’s toes, fits his fingers between them until Jinyoung squirms. Soon, Jinyoung is smiling, too.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Jaebum says. 

“Until then, we’re just friends.” 

From outside, in the living room, Hyunjin yells, “Park! I’m hungry!”

Jinyoung tries to sit up but Jaebum stands and tells him to lay down. He lifts Jinyoung’s foot leaves a kiss on his ankle before letting it drop. 

“I’ll go feed him,” he says, “Try to get some rest.” 

\--

Jaebum stands in front of the stove wearing a thin, green apron that Hyunjin insists he puts on. Hyunjin has pulled up a stool and stands next to him in a blue apron, though his has a small paw printed on it. He wears a matching blue chef hat.

“Park always burns the omelet -- flip it! Flip it now!” 

He does as he’s told and flips the egg. It sizzles and Hyunjin claps, then pats himself on the back.

“I’m the best assistant chef,” he declares and puts his tiny fists against his hips. Jaebum can’t help but crack a smile. 

“You really are, you’re even better than me.” 

“It’s okay, sometimes dads can learn from sons.” 

A few minutes later, the egg is done and Jaebum serves it over rice with sauce on a panda-shaped plate.

“Omelet rice is my favorite,” Hyunjin says, “Mom used to make it in Seattle.” 

They sit across from each other at the table, Hyunjin eating hungrily, Jaebum watching. He leans forward, props his elbows on the table, rests his chin on his hands. 

“Do you miss her?” 

Hyunjin shakes his head, takes his time chewing, then swallows. 

“She’s around.”

“What do you mean?” 

Hyunjin takes another bite, chews, and swallows again. “Park said she watches over us, and that if I talk to her she will listen. He said if I ever miss her I can just talk to her. But I have to do it when no one else is around because other people don’t understand.” 

Jaebum presses his lips together in a thin line. Then he says, “What do you tell her?” 

“Everything.” Hyunjin shrugs and pushes his plate forward when he’s done. “I tell her jokes so she won’t get bored.” 

“Why would she get bored?” 

“Because she has to watch over Park,” he says then hops off his chair and runs into the living room, grabs the remote, clicks on the TV. 

“Come watch a movie with me!” he yells. A beat later, Jaebum stands and joins him on the floor. Hyunjin has laid out a blanket, and once Jaebum sits, he inches closer and closer to him, leans against his frame. His body feels warm and small against his, and Jaebum wonders how he can be so tiny, so vulnerable. His heart tightens with an urge to protect him from the world so he drapes an arm around him. Hyunjin fits snug against his side. 

\--

They watch three movies, and at the start of the fourth, Jaebum catches Hyunjin nodding off. After a particularly loud yawn, he finally gives in to sleep and rests his entire weight on Jaebum. 

He pulls away as best as he can and grabs Hyunjin by his waist. In swift, fluid movements, he picks him up and holds him in his arms so Hyunjin’s cheek rests against his shoulder. He’s surprised at how easy it comes, the holding, the position, the quiet nudges of instinct that guide him. He could be a father, he thinks, and steps into Hyunjin’s room, lays him out gently on the bed. He pulls up the covers, adjusts his pillow, and when he stands up to check his work, Hyunjin’s eyes are open. 

He blinks slowly, and each time his eyes remain more closed, inching towards sleep, but the tiny smile that stretches over his lips is unmistakable. He falls asleep in steps: first his entire face scrunches up, as if frowning. His eyebrows are furrowed, his nose is wrinkled, and his lips look uncomfortably pressed together. Then, little by little, his expression softens -- the discomfort undoes itself. After a moment, he looks entirely at peace, and Jaebum’s heart warms. 

When he steps outside, Jinyoung is yawning his way into the kitchen. 

Jaebum catches up to him and rests his hands on his hips. Jinyoung turns, still sleepy, still slow, and smiles lazily at him. 

“Hi,” he says in between yawns. 

“Hey, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” 

Jinyoung shakes his head and pats Jaebum’s chest, then he heads towards the table and sits down. 

“I was making sure you ate something before you left. Did you eat?” 

“No, but it’s fine. I’m not hungry.” 

“I have to make you something,” Jinyoung says, yawning, “Just let me rest my eyes for a second.” 

Jaebum watches him fold his arms and fit his head between them. After a few minutes, Jaebum hears him snore quietly. With a sigh he steps around the table and pulls at Jinyoung’s arms until he stands. 

Jinyoung’s voice is quiet, rises between whispers. His words are mumbled and soft when he asks, “Did I make food yet?” 

Jaebum, smiling, says, “Yes, you did. It was amazing. I’m almost too full, you know.”

"Good," he mumbles, "I'm such a good cook."

Then Jinyoung’s eyes thin, wrinkles form under his eyes. His smile is drowsy and loose and Jaebum can’t think of anything as lovely, nor as dreamy. Jinyoung is still heavy, though, and leans against Jaebum without much strength of his own. 

Instead of struggling, he wraps Jinyoung’s arm around his neck. Then he bends to hook an arm behind Jinyoung’s knees. With a quiet grunt, he lifts him off the ground and drapes him across his arms. He carries him across the kitchen and into the hallway and Jinyoung slowly wraps his arms around Jaebum’s neck, rests his head against his  shoulders and he keeps murmuring things, but Jaebum can no longer make sense of them.

He carries Jinyoung back into his room and gently lowers him on the bed. Jinyoung yawns and stretches for a second before he curls into himself. Jaebum pulls the sheet over him, then sits by the bed, watches Jinyoung fall asleep.

To his delight, he falls asleep like Hyunjin: first with a wrinkled nose, a furrowed brow, and then with so much peace that it makes Jaebum sleepy just watching. For a second he wonders if he could sleep in Jinyoung’s bed, wonders what Jinyoung would do if he woke up to Jaebum there, in his underwear, an arm wrapped around his waist. He wonders if they would cuddle, if they would stay on separate sides. He wonders if Jinyoung would let him sleep or if he’d kick him out. 

He wonders if he would be happy waking up to Jaebum, the way he would be happy waking up to Jinyoung. 

But he sighs a heavy, slow sound and decides these are questions for another time, another place. He turns off all the lights before he leaves the apartment and heads home. 

\--

Two weeks later, Jaebum, led by Hyunjin's insistent pulling, enters a small skating rink. 

“Are you sure we can be here?” 

“Park always lets me skate,” Hyunjin answers, and the hallway gives way to an empty lobby. Here he spots Jinyoung hunched over a small counter, poring over a book. Hyunjin yells his name and he looks up. His eyebrows push together and his eyes light up, confused but pleased. Mark appears from the side and smiles. 

“What are you doing here?” asks Jinyoung. 

“We want to skate,” Hyunjin says, but Jinyoung keeps his eyes fixed on Jaebum.

“Did you bring money?” 

“Park!” Hyunjin sighs and walks up to the counter, drapes his small fingers over the ledge, “Just give us skates.” 

“I’ll pay,” Jaebum offers and pulls out his wallet, but Mark waves him off. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark says, “What size skates do you need?” 

\--

“Don’t be afraid to fall, okay? I’m right here, okay?” 

Jaebum holds Hyunjin’s hand as they make their way around the ice, but he doesn’t go fast enough for his skates to glide, so he walks on them instead. It’s Hyunjin that has to pull them forward, desperate to go faster. 

“Jaebum, I think you’re the one who’s scared.” 

“Who, me? Why do you say that?” 

“Because you’re squeezing my hand!” 

“I just want you to be safe,” Jaebum says. 

“I know how to skate!” 

“I know, it’s just for safety.” 

Hyunjin shakes his head. A few minutes later, the door to the rink opens and Jinyoung steps inside. He joins them on the ice, though he skates much quicker and finishes two laps by the time Jaebum and Hyunjin end the first. 

“Why are you guys so slow?” he asks, slowing to skate next to them. 

“Jaebum is going slow and he won’t let go of my hand!” Hyunjin yells and Jaebum blushes. He sniffles his nose and pats his cheek as if to hide the color. 

“I was just making sure he was safe.” He lets go of his hand and Hyunjin, immediately, shoots forward. He glides around the curve and down the length of the rink, his skates whispering against the ice. Jinyoung stays behind with Jaebum. 

“How did you get this job, anyway?” Jaebum asks. 

“I don’t know,” he says, “When I moved out here, I found some of my mom’s stuff. She didn’t leave a lot, but she had a few phone numbers. When she passed away, well, I was the one to tell everyone. And I called here but it was just a skating rink. And I was curious, so I came by one day, and they were hiring.”

“And you just took the job?” 

“I needed one,” he says, “Plus I like skating. It calms me down. It’s always dead, though, but my boss doesn’t seem to mind. I think they’re doing money laundering, but I’m not sure.” 

Jaebum hums, lets himself lose his focus for a moment and that’s when his skating stutters. He starts to tip forward so his arms rise to flap at his sides, trying to find balance. His fingers stretch and fold as if trying to grab onto the air.

“Haven’t you skated before?” 

Jaebum nods and his arms stretch in front of him, his knees bend, as if squatting. “I used to play hockey.” 

“Really? When?” 

“When I was five,” he says. His lips twist into a frown when Jinyoung starts to laugh and the sound bounces around the room in quiet echoes.

“Then let’s race,” Jinyoung says. He leans forward and bends his legs, alternates his weight between feet and picks up speed. He moves in fluid motions and carves neat lines into the ice with his skates and he looks so at home skating, as if weightless, as light as air, as if he's always floating effortlessly. Jaebum tries to do the same, but he keeps having to wave his arms to find his balance every few feet. He leans his entire body to the front, then to the back, then to the front again until he falls, finally. He lands on his bottom and slides across the ice, crashes gently against the edge where he struggles to stand without slipping, but no matter how much he tries, he keeps falling back on his rear. 

Jinyoung is at his side a second later, while Hyunjin continues to skate, unaware of his fall, unaware of anything except the clean lines his skates dig into the ice. 

“I thought you knew how to skate,” Jinyoung says and Jaebum just huffs. 

“I think I need a little help,” he mumbles. Jinyoung, smiling, finds his hand with his and pulls him up. Although Jaebum’s palms are cold from the ice, they immediately start to warm in Jinyoung’s. 

“I’ll teach you.” He pulls Jaebum forward, gently. Jaebum follows as best as he can, and every time he’s close to slipping, he clings to Jinyoung with both hands and hangs his entire weight on him. 

“It’s okay,” Jinyoung says, “Just stand up straight and think of the weight you’re putting on your feet. Take control of that, and make sure you glide. It’s easy.” 

Jaebum straightens his posture, and after taking a breath, his legs stretch and he pays attention to how his feet are poised. For a second everything feels light, everything is secure. He lifts his right foot and puts it in front of him, then does the same with the left, then right, then left. Right, left, right, left. He skates for a few beautiful moments, gliding on the ice, feeling both light and safe and unreal -- the air skitters around him, and it feels a bit like soaring. In the last moment, though, everything slips and he starts to stumble. He reaches for Jinyoung’s hand and pulls him close. 

Jinyoung tries holding him up but they both end up falling and sliding in circles towards the wall. . 

“Shit, Jinyoung, I’m sorry,” Jaebum hisses, trying to stand up right, trying to help Jinyoung who just laughs at his side. He has his legs sprawled out, makes no attempt to stand. Instead, when Jaebum falls down again, he crawls closer, presses a hand against Jaebum’s leg to keep him down. He watches Jinyoung’s smile simmer until it's just a curve, a bit mischievous at the edges, a bit playful; the weight of his hand keeps rising higher and he tries not to jump when Jinyoung digs his fingers into his thigh. He leans closer and closer and Jaebum smells his after shave. 

“I thought you knew how to skate,” he teases, and Jaebum returns his smile, confident now. He looks at Jinyoung’s lips and Jinyoung looks at his. He leans a bit closer, ignores the way the ice burns into his bottom, focuses only on the heat of Jinyoung’s fingers, sliding between his thighs. 

Then the door opens and Mark calls out, “Jinyoung! Chansung is in the parking lot! Come out!” 

Panicked, Jinyoung pulls away and struggles to his feet, then skates quickly out of the rink. He waddles to the door and leaves Hyunjin and Jaebum to skate in silence. Hyunjin skates up to him when he stands, looking worn out. 

“I want to go,” he says and Jaebum nods.

\--

They exit to the lobby and sit at one of the benches. Jaebum takes his skates off quickly before he starts undoing Hyunjin’s. 

“Are you coming to our Christmas party?” Hyunjin asks when Jaebum finishes with one shoe. He wiggles his toes, lifts his other one. 

“What Christmas party?” 

“We’re having a Christmas party, I’ll tell Park to invite you.”

“I don’t know if he wants me there,” Jaebum says, pulls off the skate gently. Then he helps Hyunjin slip into his shoes, ties his laces for him. 

“Well, I want you there. But you have to bring me a present.” 

Jaebum smiles, looks at him before he stands up. 

“It’s a deal,” he says. He gathers their skates, and when he turns he’s met with a tall, broad presence. Jinyoung had complained about Chansung before, briefly, but Jaebum had never imagined him like this: young, disinterested, taller than both of them. His presence isn't intimidating, there's no immediate danger, but something seems to lurk beneath the surface. It puts Jaebum on edge. Chansung glances at him, then his gaze falls to Hyunjin. 

“You must be the famous Park Hyunjin.” 

Hyunjin’s face wrinkles with anger. His lips pout and pucker like a duck's, and for a moment he looks too much like Jinyoung.

“I’m  _ not  _ Park Hyunjin! My name is  _ Hwang  _ Hyunjin!” he yells, “Only Park is Park!” 

Chansung’s expression changes, flits from absent amusement to something more pensive, even dark. He stares at Hyunjin for too long, continues looking even after Hyunjin walks around him and heads towards the counter. 

“Sorry, sir,” Jaebum says and does the same, but Chansung lingers at the side of the lobby. 

“What happened?” Jinyoung nods to where Chansung has sunk down on one of the benches, his body curved and heavy. 

“I don’t know.” He puts the skates on the counter. “What’s this about a party you’re inviting me to?” 

“What party?” 

“A Christmas party,” Jaebum answers, “Hyunjin invited me. I’m coming.” 

Jinyoung groans. “I didn’t want to invite you because it seems -- I don’t know -- boring. I’m sure you have better things to do.” 

“I don’t,” Jaebum says, grinning, “You’ll see me there.”

“Bring someone just in case.” Jinyoung’s pout loosens, and Jaebum finds the hints of a smile. He almost reaches forward to run the tip of his finger over the shape but Mark comes up behind and taps his shoulder. Jaebum turns and Mark looks hesitant. 

“Can I ask you a favor?” 

“Sure.”

“Can you watch Hyunjin for a few more hours? I have to go send my sister something, today is the last day they’re taking Christmas things without charging extra.” 

“Sure,” he says, “I’ll text you my address.”

“Thank you,” Mark sighs, takes one of Jaebum’s hands and shakes it, “No wonder Jinyoung likes you so much.” 

Jaebum hears Jinyoung spit out his water behind him, then the familiar sounds of him choking. All he can do is laugh and wave in their direction when Hyunjin starts running towards the front door.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” he yells and disappears outside. Jaebum tries to catch up, and before the door closes, he hears Chansung calling Jinyoung into his office. 

\--

Hyunjin leaps on his couches as Jaebum watches from the kitchen. Jackson, with his arms crossed, stands next to him.

“So this is him,” Jackson says. 

“This is him. What do you think?” 

“I don’t. I mean, all kids kind of look the same, don’t they?” 

“No,” Jaebum says, “Hyunjin is different. You should try talking to him, he’s interesting.” 

“Why would I ever talk to a child?” 

“Come on, don’t be so cold,” Jaebum says, then hums. He walks over to pour himself a glass of water. “Jinyoung is having a Christmas party, he just invited me. He said I can bring someone -- you want to go?” 

“And miss out on my usual parade of Christmas girls? No thank you.” 

“Don’t you want to spend it with family?” 

“You’re my family? I don’t think so,” he says with a snort. 

“It seems like you are since you’re always at my place.”

“You’ve got better acoustics. I’ll think about it, but it’s probably still going to be a ‘no’ from me.” 

Jaebum shakes his head and they stand in silence, watch as Hyunjin throws all the sofa pillows on the floor and jumps on them while Zootopia blares on the TV. It’s so loud that they almost don’t hear the doorbell ring, but Hyunjin catches it.

“I’ll get it!” He screams and almost trips when he runs across the living room to leap at the door. Jaebum hears it open then slam shut. Hyunjin returns to the living room, pulling Mark with him. 

“Hey Jaebum,” he says, out of breath, but his attention falls back to Hyunjin as he insists that Mark jump on the pillows with him. 

“Who’s that?” Jackson asks. Jaebum notices that he’s leaning forward now, curved over the counter. His eyes don’t leave the living room, even when he reaches, blindly, with his hand to tug at Jaebum’s arm. “Who is that?” 

Jaebum smiles and moves closer. 

“That’s Jinyoung’s friend, Mark.” 

“And is he going to be at the party?” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Jaebum says, then, teasing, “Why? Do you like him?” 

“Maybe so.” 

Mark finally breaks Hyunjin’s focus enough that he can lead him to where Jaebum and Jackson stand. 

“Thanks for watching him,” he tells Jaebum. He turns to Jackson, bows his head a little. “Both of you.” 

“My pleasure,” Jackson says, grinning widely. He reaches over, offers a hand. “My name’s Jackson. Nice to meet you, Mark.” 

Mark returns his smile, lifts his hand to place it in Jackson’s. At this, Jackson lifts Mark’s hand to his lips, presses a kiss on the back of it and Mark laughs, quietly. 

“You’re trying too hard,” Mark says.

Jackson doesn’t miss a beat and says, “I know a few things about being too hard.” 

Mark’s cheeks flush with color and he shakes his head, pulls Hyunjin towards the door. 

"I'll see you guys later," he says and Hyunjin waves excitedly.

"Trust me, you will," Jackson shouts. Then they hear the door close and Jackson sighs, a dreamy sound.

“Yeah,” he tells Jaebum, “I’m definitely going to smash.” 

\--

Jackson leaves an hour after, and Jaebum settles on the couch. He thinks to sleep but his phone starts buzzing under him. He answers without looking, and Jinyoung’s voice spills out from the other end. Each breath wades in his ears, and every word, though clear, feels heavy and wet. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Can you come pick me up, Jaebum? Please?” 

“Sure, what’s wrong?” 

“I’ll tell you when you get here.” 

Jaebum just drives to him, his heart racing, his mind empty except for Jinyoung. He imagines the worst -- maybe he's hurt, maybe he's in danger. He thinks to take his gun, but decides against it in the last minute, and instead just speeds down unfamiliar roads. When he arrives, Jinyoung is standing on the sidewalk, fidgeting with his fingers. He keeps looking over his shoulder, and when he spots Jaebum's car, he crawls in almost desperately. Jaebum starts to drive until he notices that Jinyoung is crying. Sobs fill his chest and rise to his throat. Some of them spill into his mouth, past his lips, while others stay on his tongue and make awful, heavy sounds. 

He takes the first opportunity to park and reaches over to rest his hand on Jinyoung's back. 

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he says but Jinyoung just shakes his head, tries to control himself but falters. His body leans towards him, as if searching, as if it's only the most natural thing to rest his forehead on Jaebum’s shoulder. And it feels that way for him, too. The comforting, the arm wrapped around his frame. The way each cry trembles through both of their bones, as if the pain were splitting in two. As if this, too, were shared just as earnestly as love, as laughter. 

“I got fired,” Jinyoung says, though his voice cracks. His words seem to split in two, broken, fractured, like glass that he's managed to push past his throat. Yet it falls in between muffled sobs, loses its edge, but not its damaged sound. He sniffles, tries to rub at his eyes but he starts crying again. His entire frame trembles, and Jaebum watches the way his shoulders shake and sway, like a boat clinging to the pier as a storm runs its course. He wraps another arm around him, pulls him as close as his car seats will allow. 

“How did you get fired?”

Jinyoung doesn’t answer, he just shrugs. The more he cries, the closer he gets, and the tighter he clings to Jaebum’s clothes. Jaebum feels his fingers dig at his skin, almost painfully, but he still pulls him close, still kisses the top of his head. He holds him as if he could crumble at any second; holds him like he were something precious; something too delicate to be human, too soft for the weight of flesh or the clash of bones. He holds Jinyoung like he loves him. 

“I’m going to lose the apartment,” he says after his crying simmers down. He sits up slowly, though one of his hands remains gripped on Jaebum’s arm. His hold only loosens, doesn’t fall away. 

“Didn’t you get paid for what you’ve worked?” 

Jinyoung shakes his head, looks at his lap. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he says, “If I use my savings I won’t be able to pay for Hyunjin’s school. Everything’s ruined.” 

Jaebum reaches for his hand and tangles their fingers together. He lifts Jinyoung’s hand to press a kiss to his wrist. 

“You can move in with me for a while.”

Jinyoung shakes his head immediately, “God, no -- I can’t impose. I didn’t call you for that, I just -- you always know what to do.” 

“That’s what you should do,” he says, urges him with his voice. He even leans closer, lets his words soften in his throat, “No strings attached. Just until you find another job. Do it for Hyunjin.” 

Jinyoung’s eyes glisten in the dark, but when they find Jaebum, they soften, even look relieved. Jaebum kisses his hand again, then lets them settle between the seats. Something changes, then, or seems to change. Like gears turning, though Jaebum suspects that only formalities have changed; like finding a name for something that has always been there, pulsing between them. He loves him, he realizes, he has to -- and Jinyoung, with the way he looks at him, both admiring and desperate, naive and wise, must love him, too. There's no other explanation for the way the air swarms with something else, something beyond sadness, beyond language. Something that holds them together, in that car, in that year, in that life. In this world. 

“Are you sure it won’t be a problem? I’ll clean and everything -- just for a little while. I can find a job in no time.” 

“I’ll help you move out,” he says, “It won’t be a problem.” 

\--

Two weeks later, Jaebum helps Jinyoung pick up the last few boxes from his empty apartment. The rooms, now bare, look clean and hauntingly empty. As though their couch remains, only invisible. As if Hyunjin still runs through the halls, only silent and transparent. Jinyoung bids it farewell with a kiss, then closes the door behind them.

They carry the boxes into the backseat of Jaebum’s car, then settle in the front. 

“Thank you so much for this, Jaebum,” he says, “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaebum answers. He reaches across to rest a hand on Jinyoung’s thigh, squeezes gently. Jinyoung wraps his fingers around Jaebum’s wrist and pulls it higher until his hand rests where his thigh meets his hips. He turns to Jaebum with a smile. 

“Jisoo’s watching Hyunjin for two more hours,” he tells him, leans forward to press his lips against Jaebum’s, a quick kiss, but a promise of something more. It tells of the kisses they've already had, of the kisses they have yet to have. Then Jinyoung takes his bottom lip between his teeth, bites gently, tugs just as soft. And when he speaks again, he doesn’t back away, lets each word fall over Jaebum’s lips in warm breaths. “If you drive fast enough I’ll show you how much I appreciate you.” 

Warmth pools at Jaebum’s stomach, moves southward, pulses in between his legs. He lifts the hand at Jinyoung’s thigh to his groin, grabs his crotch rough and quick and relishes the sound Jinyoung makes, the tiny moan, high and strangled, so different from his usual deep tone. He likes the way Jinyoung’s face twists, both in surprise and pleasure, the way he leans back in his seat and bites down on his lip.

His eyes almost close but when he looks forward, out of the window, they go wide and round, like an animal suddenly alarmed. His entire body tenses and Jaebum follows his gaze, finds Chansung a ways away from their car, looking around. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Jinyoung mutters, and Jaebum pats his thigh. 

“I’ll handle it,” he tells him. He slips out of the car and Chansung turns at the noise. They meet in the middle, Jaebum with his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed. 

“Can I help you?” 

“I need to talk to Jinyoung,” he says. He sounds out of breath, desperate.

“I don’t think he wants to talk to you.”

Chansung doesn’t face him, instead looks past him at the car. He fishes into his pocket and pulls out a small paper, hands it to Jaebum. 

“Can you give this to him? And tell him to call me?” 

“What is this?” 

“It’s his paycheck,” he says, “Please, please tell him to call me.” 

Jaebum unfolds the paper, confused, and everything he knows, at least thinks he knows, stops making sense. He fights the urge to look back at Jinyoung, instead steps to the side to block Chansung’s view. 

“What do you mean his check -- he said you wouldn’t pay him when you fired him.” 

At this, Chansung meets his eyes, looks just as confused as him. 

“I didn’t fire him.” 

“What do you mean? He was crying, he told me you fired him.” 

“He quit,” Chansung says, “He quit when he found out.” 

“When he found out what?” 

Chansung’s eyebrows furrow for a second, he looks lost and miserable. Jaebum notices the bags under his eyes, their restless look, as if he hasn’t slept for days. Then he shakes his head, takes a step back. 

“You should ask him,” he says, “Just tell him to stay in touch. Please.” 


	3. here lies love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been a huge writer's block for me aldkfj but if i didn't post this now, i wouldn't be able to write anything else so here it is
> 
> these are basically my notes just a little more fleshed out, i hope you enjoy them! wish i could have done more with this, but such is life
> 
> (^: thanks for reading always <3 see y'all next time (very soon, hopefully)

“Why didn’t you tell me you quit?” 

Jaebum’s voice treads into the space between them. He doesn’t sound angry or hurt -- he makes sure of that. But still, Jinyoung prickles up. He holds the check in his hands, his eyes roaming it, as if looking for the answer. 

“I don’t think it’s your place to ask me that.” 

“Really, Jinyoung? I’m just wondering why you keep trying to hide things from me.” 

“It’s complicated, alright?” Jinyoung raises his eyes, raises his voice, “And this doesn’t concern you! At all! Don’t try to be a hero.” 

“I just want to help, Jinyoung. I’m not the enemy here. But I can’t help if you keep lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying!” Jinyoung’s yelling fills the room, the hall, even the living room like a ghost. A spirit roaming the halls, haunting empty spaces. Jaebum takes a step back. Jinyoung stands up from the bed, and Jaebum notices the glimmer in his eyes. He wonders how long he’s been crying. 

“Jinyoung -- let’s just start from the beginning. What happened?” 

But Jinyoung looks nervous and defensive, like an animal that’s been cornered. He lets the check fall to the ground.

“Chansung is Hyunjin’s dad, okay?! Is that what you want to know? And I didn’t want to work for him anymore -- I don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t want him near me, I don’t want him near Hyunjin, either.” 

Jaebum pauses, stunned for a moment, but his voice returns a beat later. “Shouldn’t he get to decide that?” 

“Why would he?! Chansung hasn’t been around, he doesn’t need to be around.” 

“You’re not his father, Jinyoung.” 

“And neither are you!” Jinyoung’s breathing is heavy, and now his cheeks are wet with tears. The air, suddenly tense, hardening with each word they fling, makes it a struggle to breathe. Jaebum swallows, almost nervous. 

“Jinyoung -- give him the chance to choose. I didn’t get that choice, I didn’t get to grow up with a father. Don’t take that away from him.” 

Jinyoung trembles but his hands have tightened into fists. He no longer sees Jaebum, it seems. And though it’s dark, though the colors in the room are muted and dull, Jaebum swears he sees red. A throbbing red that fills the room like water, a red that spills into the rest of the apartment. 

“Well I did grow up with one, Jaebum, and you know what? He doesn’t need one! And nobody can change my mind!” 

Jinyoung finally moves and heads to the door. Jaebum tries to step closer but Jinyoung just glares, the tears still streaming, and Jaebum hears him stalking down the hall. He follows him into the living room, but by then, Jinyoung is already swinging the door open. On the other side is Jisoo, still holding Hyunjin’s hand. 

“Park,” she says but Jinyoung keeps walking. Hyunjin stares, wide-eyed and worried. His eyebrows are furrowed. He looks shocked, mostly, but then his eyes roam and find Jaebum and anger settles in. 

“Did you make Park cry?” he asks. His question steps into the room quietly, settles just as gently. But his expression continues racing towards anger. Jaebum sees red again. 

Hyunjin rips his hand away from Jisoo’s and runs forward. His hands form tiny fists and he pushes Jaebum; he tries to push him back, tries to push him away, tries to push him anywhere but here, but he’s too weak. Frustrated, he starts to cry. 

“Did you make Park cry?!” he asks again, yelling this time. He steps back, his little body trembling with rage. It feels like someone has hammered a splinter into Jaebum’s heart, and the more Hyunjin cries, the deeper it gets wedged. 

“No, we just had a misunderstanding,” Jaebum says and moves closer. Hyunjin steps back, shaking his head, and Jaebum swears the splinter keeps getting hammered in until it splits his heart in half. 

“Go away!” Hyunjin says, “You’re mean! I don’t want you to be my dad anymore!” 

Hyunjin starts to cry and Jaebum reaches out a hand but he flees back to Jisoo.

“Hyunjin,” he calls but Hyunjin has already hid his face in Jisoo’s skirt, sobbing quietly into it. 

Without Hyunjin and without Jinyoung, Jaebum is left to realize, with a striking clarity, how empty his chest feels. How hollow. How each of his words, unspoken and forgotten, rattle around in there, remind him of the futures he chose not to have, of the futures he isn’t allowed to have. 

And of the futures not meant for him. 

\--

“What happened?” Jisoo stands in the corner of the room. Jaebum sits on the edge of the bed -- the light is murky with the curtains drawn. A single lamp glows in the corner. 

“I confronted him about quitting. I don’t know -- I just wanted to know the truth.” 

“And did he tell you?” 

“I think so,” Jaebum says. He looks unsure sitting there, staring at his hands, as if the truth were written in the lines of his palms, always present but unreadable. Jisoo breaks the silence with a sigh. She goes to sit next to Jaebum. 

“You have to be patient with him. You have to give him time -- he doesn’t mean to be like this.”

“I thought it would be easy, we dated before. I just thought we could go back.” 

“I’m sure he wishes he could go back, too. But a lot of things have happened. A lot has changed.”

“I know, but I’ve been here for him. I’m trying to be here for him. I’m making it so easy.”

“He’s not used to it. You just can’t expect everything to fall into place. Things are messy, Jaebum. Jinyoung is still trying to figure everything out.” 

“What is he figuring out?” 

“I don’t know, maybe himself? Maybe you? Maybe his feelings? Sometimes I don’t recognize him either.” 

“You’ve known him, though. He said he followed you here.” 

Jisoo gives him a long, pensive look. She smiles, though the shape of her lips is somber, too. Her eyes look distant. “Did he tell you that?” 

“Yeah, he said he moved here for you.”

“He moved here for Sungjin. When they finally broke up, I was there to pick up the pieces. Then Hyunjin came, and it looked like things were changing for the better. He didn’t cry so much.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sungjin was terrible to him. I’ve never seen Jinyoung so broken, and we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Why did he stay with him?” 

Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. Then she sighs, looks at her feet. “I don’t know, I guess he thought he deserved it. I could never figure out why he thought so little of himself. Like he wasn’t allowed anything good. So he threw himself at Sungjin. It was a rough time. That’s why I thought things would be different with you…” 

Jaebum doesn’t reply, instead he lets their voices rest in the air. He imagines every word settling into the spaces in the room, fleeing towards shadows, hiding. He imagines that some, the most bold, the ones Jinyoung shouted, still remain and flutter towards the lamp and smash themselves against the glowing bulb, like insects racing towards the light. He suddenly regrets it all -- the confrontation, the fight, the aftermath. 

“I thought I would be better,” he says.

“I think you are better,” she says after a breath, “But you have to give things time. You can’t just fix people. You have to hold their hand and guide them, but you can’t force them to walk. Just hold him -- let him be angry, let him sad, just let him know you’re there. Let him know there’s an after.”

"I will. Did he say where he was going?" 

"No," she says, "But he usually disappears when he cries."

"I think I know where he might be." 

"Good." 

Jaebum, as if admitting it to himself for the first time, says, “I’m in love with him.”

Jisoo looks at him, her head cocked, her face worried. She asks, tentatively, “Are you really?” 

\--

The question haunts him on his drive: is he in love with Jinyoung? 

Love, he figures, is something that’s born from within -- like warm air swirling inside of him, a warm breeze that’s been trapped in his chest. That lightens his steps, as if it were peeling his feet from the cement, as if it were teaching him to fly. Weightless, boundless, just an airy soul navigating a body. 

Or maybe it’s something that comes from the outside, like warm oil in his hands. Oil that slides down his fingers to wet his palms, that smells of sugar and tastes like salt and sounds like an ocean when he holds it near his ears. An oil that makes him aware of his body, aware of the effects love has on him: the pinching of his heart, the flutters in his stomach. The warm, almost feverish swarming in his limbs. That yearning, that desire. 

And just when he’s about to learn the shape of love, his mind like a hand closing its fingers around an object, he arrives at his destination: an old park, small, but lined with thick trees. In the middle, he knows, is an old bench with an even older wood awning above -- he knows this place well, knows it intimately. 

More than five years ago, his newly adopted cat had ran away from him and fled into the park and led him to where Jinyoung was waiting. 

Back then, he was sure it had been an act of fate. That seeing Jinyoung, his eyes still red from crying, his smile still sweet with surprise, was a moment stitched in their destiny. But those had been childish fantasies. They had come together only to fall apart a year later -- a bright blaze of love, celestial and unapologetic, but then silence, like a star teetering towards death. 

Maybe love is a choice, he thinks, as he makes his way down the path and up the stairs and sees Jinyoung’s frame slumped against the bench. Maybe love is choosing to step on the platform, to sit next to Jinyoung, to press their bodies together so that their thighs meet, so that he can slip a hand into Jinyoung’s. So he can say, with all the strength he can muster, with that warm breeze blowing the words from his mouth like kites sailing between them, its syllables strung and fluttering like tails, “I think I love you.” 

He can’t see Jinyoung’s lips, but he can hear his smile when he responds, “Do you now?” 

“Maybe.” 

And maybe is enough for now, he thinks. And he’s sure Jinyoung thinks the same because he squeezes Jaebum’s hand, and Jaebum squeezes back with his fingers. Slowly, Jinyoung leans closer until his head rests against Jaebum’s shoulders. 

“I’m being overdramatic.”  

“No. You’re allowed emotions.” 

“I can’t believe I quit over something so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid,” he says, rubbing his thumb along Jinyoung’s hand, “It’s important to you.” 

“I just -- sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to do this. I love Hyunjin, but taking care of him is so stressful. I always think of him first, then I go and do this, and it feels like all the progress I've made just disappears. I just want to have a life of my own. I want to make mistakes, too. I want to be young.” 

Jinyoung’s words linger in the air, like humid breaths after the rain. Water clinging to the wind, ready to lead it back to rain. 

“If it’s worth anything, I’ll be here for you if you want to be bad.” 

Jinyoung snorts. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, why not? I’ll take Hyunjin away if you get too crazy,” Jaebum says, smiling, but Jinyoung just sighs. 

“He didn’t seem too happy.” 

“He’s fucking pissed. He wouldn’t talk to me before I left. Jisoo had to stay over.” 

At this, Jinyoung turns to look at him, and Jaebum turns to glance back. Jinyoung’s eyes are red from crying and the scene looks hauntingly familiar, enough that the years pull away, like someone pulling apart the leaves of a bush to peek inside at its branches. Jinyoung then -- Jinyoung now -- looks so young. Life seems to pour out of his eyes, bright even after crying. Still wild, still reckless. Aching for adventure. Begging for joy.

Jaebum lifts a hand to brush Jinyoung’s hair back, away from his forehead. He fits a lock behind his ear. 

“Let’s go fix the mess,” he says and Jinyoung smiles just like he did six years ago. 

Nothing has changed, Jaebum thinks as the breeze inside him blows, like a lost breath clambering around his body, trying to find an escape. But as they stand, as they head over to the car hand in hand, Jaebum knows that it isn’t lost. Like him, it’s right where it should be. 

\--

“He didn’t make me cry, Hyunjin, I promise.” 

Hyunjin wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s middle again, clinging tightly, rubbing his nose against his chest. From time to time, he pulls away to glare in Jaebum’s direction. 

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin asks, looks up at Jinyoung. They sit at the edge of Jaebum’s bed, and Jaebum feels like he’s intruding in his own home. The irony makes him smile.

“I’m sure. I was crying because I had a lot on my mind.” 

“Are you telling the truth? We can call the police, Park. He’s not the only police officer.” 

“I’m sure,” Jinyoung says and smooths his hand over Hyunjin’s head, combs the back of his hair with his fingers. Hyunjin sighs, rubs his face against Jinyoung one last time, then lets go. He stands up, makes his way over to where Jaebum is standing by the door. He still doesn’t face him. 

“Sorry for yelling at you,” he says. Jaebum squats down to look at him in the eyes. To his surprise, Hyunjin still looks angry. 

“It’s okay. You were just trying to defend your brother.”

Hyunjin finally meets his eyes, glaring. His eyebrows are pushed together and he scowls.

“I’ll hurt you if you make Park cry,” he whispers. 

Jaebum, smiling, says, “I won’t make him cry, I promise. I love him. Will you forgive me?” 

Hyunjin nods and Jaebum opens his arms for a hug. Hyunjin, tentatively, still holding the frown on his lips, takes a few steps forward. Then he wraps his tiny arms around Jaebum’s neck. Jaebum gets a hold of him, picks him up and walks over to the bed. 

“You can still be my dad,” Hyunjin mumbles when Jaebum sits him down. Jinyoung fidgets next to him, and Jaebum stands with his arms crossed, looks at them both. 

“About that,” Jinyoung says. He lets the silence simmer. Jinyoung looks to Jaebum, pleads with his eyes, and Jaebum sighs. He takes a seat next to them. Hyunjin, by now, has stood up on the bed and jumps gently. 

“Hyunjin,” he says, “I like being your dad.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Hyunjin says. 

“But you know you have another dad, right? A real one?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Hyunjin says. He stops bouncing on the bed. Instead he goes to sit next to Jinyoung, looks up at Jaebum with wide eyes. He looks almost bored. “Hwang Chansung. That’s my real dad.” 

Jinyoung and Jaebum share a look -- Jinyoung looks horrified, and Jaebum feels relieved but confused. Jinyoung is the one who breaks the silence.

“How do you know?” 

Hyunjin turns to him and shrugs, then says, “Mom would show me pictures of him. He’s a lot bigger in real life.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He takes longer to reply, looks at Jaebum, then back to JInyoung. 

“I didn’t want to hurt Jaebum’s feelings.” 

They share another look, and then, before he can help it, Jaebum starts to laugh. It comes as big mounds of sound, filling his chest before they rise, swept up by his breaths. He falls back on the bed and keeps laughing. Then, faintly, he hears Hyunjin say, “Park, Jaebum’s losing it!” 

He keeps laughing until Hyunjin gets closer to him, hovers over his head, presses the back of his tiny hand against Jaebum’s forehead. 

“He’s not sick,” he says and Jaebum starts to laugh again. The thought of all this worry, this imagined pain, this heaviness that weighed down on Jinyoung and Jaebum, all cleared at Hyunjin’s whim. He realizes, then, that his laughter, unlike anything from the past years, is the laughter of a child. Light, carefree. Full of life, full of future. 

Hyunjin keeps diagnosing him until Jinyoung stands and says he’ll make dinner. 

Only then does Jaebum’s laughter quiet. He lifts his head, and Hyunjin, who’s laid down next to him, does the same. 

“Make it good, Park,” Hyunjin says. 

“You heard him,” says Jaebum. 

Jinyoung just shakes his head, though he smiles. He looks genuinely happy, and instead of red, Jaebum sees yellow. A yellow that blazes, a yellow that brightens the room, a yellow that breathes and lives and beats as insistently as his heart. Like a ray of sunshine. This is happiness, he thinks, watching Jinyoung walk away, laying back down to hear Hyunjin tell another story about preschool, realizing that the apartment finally starts to feel like home. 

And so, life goes on. 

\--

“You have to be kinky, especially if you haven’t smashed in six years. Imagine all the dick he’s gotten, he’s going to be so bored if you give it to him straight.” 

Jaebum feels a light blush start to dust his cheeks. He shakes his head and digs an elbow in Jackson’s side. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, “And keep it down, Hyunjin might hear you.” 

“You mean that Hyunjin?” Jackson points forward at Hyunjin who runs ten meters in front of them, only looks back from time to time to make sure they’re following. 

“Still,” Jaebum says, “I don’t think it needs to be any different. We never got bored before.” 

“You guys were eighteen. Six years, Jaebum. Jinyoung must have gotten into some kinky shit in those six years. How do you know he’s not kinky? Have you asked him?”

“No, but…”

“But what?” 

Jaebum shrugs. He’s speechless, mostly. He thinks of the span of six years, seventy-two months, countless days, the infinite hours. He thinks of Jinyoung and his charm, handsome features, nice figure -- he thinks of the endless parade of men waiting to court him. Suddenly, he feels inadequate. 

“Nothing.” He swallows and slows his steps. He turns to Jackson, looks shy when he asks, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to do that?” 

“It works with chicks  _ all  _ the time -- they can’t get enough. Jinyoung can’t be that different,” he says, then adds, “I’ll bring you the fake ones later. You said Hyunjin will be gone this weekend?” 

“Yeah, to visit his grandparents.”

“It’ll be perfect, then.” Jackson nudges him with an elbow, then winks. “You’ll have Jinyoung begging.” 

Jaebum tries to smile, but the shape comes out too straight, too flat, looks awkward, but he holds his lips there anyway until Hyunjin runs back to them. 

“Jaebum! There’s a real Santa here! Jaebum, I want to take a picture! Jaebum, Jaebum!” Hyunjin grabs his hand, and with all his strength, starts to tug him along. Jaebum pretends to be pulled and Hyunjin gets excited, starts to run with Jaebum in tow. Jackson stays behind, only watches them claim their place in line. 

It takes half an hour to get to the front of the line, and each minute after that, Hyunjin starts to fidget more. First he plays with his hands, threading his fingers together then pulling them apart, pressing them against his head, then his shoulders, then back to his head. At some point he shifts his weight from one foot to another, then he starts to jump in place.

“It’s fine, Hyunjin,” he assures him, “You’ll get to meet him.” 

“I know,” Hyunjin says. He looks up at Jaebum, his eyes round and wide and innocent. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

“How come?” 

“What if I haven’t been good enough?” 

Jaebum takes a moment to answer, but, with a breath, he shakes his head. “Of course you’ve been good, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll put in a good word for you.” 

“But Jaebum,” he says, whispering now, “I heard you earlier. You’ve been more bad than me.” 

Before he can respond, they call Hyunjin up and Jaebum is left to watch him slowly walk up to Santa Claus. He hops on his lap, looks nervous and anxious until he notices the camera on him. The woman behind it tells him to smile, and his entire expression changes -- from one second to the next, he goes from nervous to picture-perfect, smiling with all his small teeth bared, even the missing one on the right side. He smiles so bright that Jaebum wonders where all his fear goes. 

Then, when the picture is done, it returns, little by little. He looks pained as he talks with Santa. Looks focused as he lifts his hands and swipes them through the air, as if explaining something to Santa, as if doing business with him. Then he points in Jaebum’s direction and both of them turn. Santa waves, Jaebum waves back, and then they go back to their conversation.

When it’s time for him to leave a minute later, when he hops off and heads to Jaebum, he’s smiling.

“He said he’ll make an exception,” he says, lifting his arms so Jaebum picks him up. Jaebum hoists him up in his arms and goes to pay for the pictures.

“He is?” 

“Yeah,” he says, then whispers in his ear, “I told him you were my dad.”

Jaebum whispers back, “And what did he say?” 

“That you were cute. Santa has a crush on you.” 

Jaebum looks forward, both confused and horrified, but inevitably pleased that Hyunjin’s happy. They print the pictures and slide them into an envelope. Hyunjin holds it tight against his chest and they leave to look for Jackson. They find Jinyoung instead, off to the side, his eyes glued on them. 

“How long have you been here?” he asks.

Jinyoung doesn’t answer for a second. He looks both lost and focused, his eyes light with a daydream, or fascination, or a sweet mixture of both. His gaze flits from Jaebum to Hyunjin then settles on them both, as though he were looking at a painting, trying to admire both the entire piece and the details, too.

“Since you were in line.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jaebum asks. 

“I was watching,” Jinyoung says, quiet. Then his lips unfold into a tender smile, “I was watching you two.” 

Jinyoung and Jaebum look at each other, share a gaze, share a smile, and something flutters between them. A silent emotion, as light as feathers, as warm as sunlight. Then their silence shatters when Hyunjin yells, “Park, you’re a creep!”  

\--

“Are you on your way to work?” 

“No, today’s my day off.” Jaebum leans against the kitchen counter and he watches Jinyoung dry off his hands after washing dishes. 

“Then why are you wearing all that?” Jinyoung steps closer and runs a finger over the folds of Jaebum’s uniform. Except for his holster, he’s fully dressed for work, boots and all. For a second, he says nothing, too focused on the way Jinyoung looks at his uniform, as if admiring the navy pants, the leather belt, the blue shirt with the patch on the sleeve, the badge on his chest, even the buttoned strips of fabric that make his shoulders look even more broad and shaped. 

“I wanted to show you something,” he says, finally, “Something I needed help with.” 

Jaebum leads him out of the kitchen, past the living room, down the hall towards the bedroom. Jinyoung glares at him the entire time, as if suspicious, as if nervous.

“I know it may seem like I’m a housewife, with all the cooking and cleaning, but I don’t know how to do other things. I don’t mend clothes, Jaebum, just letting you know.”

“It’s fine,” he says, smiling, “I’m sure you can help me.” 

“I don’t know what you want,” he says. They make it to the room and Jaebum closes the door behind them.

Quietly, he says, “There, on the bed.” 

Jinyoung stands next to the it and Jaebum gets close, a bit nervous but set on hiding it. He walks up to Jinyoung and presses his chest against his back, and thinks of how nicely Jinyoung’s bottom fits against his groin, how it offers just the right amount of resistance, how it warms him almost immediately and he chases this heat, tries to find more. Jinyoung is surprised, he tries to turn around but Jaebum holds him in place and kisses his neck until all resistance melts away. 

He kisses right under his jaw, then takes his ear between his teeth and Jinyoung is already pushing backward, gently, as if still unsure, uncertain of where this could go. 

“What did you need help with?” he asks and Jaebum takes one of Jinyoung’s hands and guides it  between them, to his groin, where his erection is pushing against the front of his pants. Jinyoung moans, quietly, and Jaebum feels his entire body flare with desire, with a pull, like magnets. As if each of his fingers has a place to be, as if this, what they are doing, is inevitable. 

As Jinyoung rubs him over the fabric, Jaebum pulls at the edges of Jinyoung’s shirt until he gets the hint and peels it off slowly. Tan, slim shoulders and those soft shoulder blades, the smell of soap, the small moles that line his back is enough for Jaebum to groan, for him to finally feel how much his body wants this. 

He no longer has to think: he pushes Jinyoung on the bed so he topples, his naked torso pressed against the sheets, his ass a gentle curve. Then Jaebum reaches back into his pocket, where he pulls out the fake handcuffs Jackson delivered, and takes Jinyoung’s small wrists, holds them back so they rest against the dimples above his ass. He handcuffs him in a few quick movements. 

Jinyoung tries to say something, but Jaebum cuts him off by bending over to press his lips between his shoulders, then slow, wet kisses that make his tongue glide against his skin, that make his teeth leave little marks until Jaebum kisses past the dimples on Jinyoung’s back, jumps over the chain of the handcuffs, and meets the fabric of his jeans. Jaebum reaches around to undo the button, to pull down the zipper, to tug his jeans off in a few rough strokes that leave Jinyoung whining and writhing and naked. The handcuffs rattle, Jinyoung’s fingers twist and tighten into fists. The more he struggles, the more his back bends, the more his ass lifts up and curves, exposing the pink of his entrance.

Still, he says nothing, his voice nothing but a quiet mewl in his throat. 

For a second Jaebum doubts everything -- he wonders if Jinyoung enjoys it, too, but then he catches sight of Jinyoung’s cock between his legs, pressed uncomfortably against the bed but hard, leaking. He wants it too. 

“I want you to suck me off,” Jaebum says after some silence, running his palm over Jinyoung’s ass -- his fingers feel rough against such warm, soft skin. Then he pulls away and goes to the chair in the corner of the room, sits down and waits for Jinyoung to come. He has a hard time standing, a harder time walking, and he almost stumbles forward but he makes it on his knees, kneels in front of Jaebum. 

“My hands are tied, Jaebum -- “

“ _ Officer _ Jaebum,” he corrects, slipping off his belt,  undoing the first button of his pants. 

“I’m not going to call you that.” Jinyoung is glaring, his lips pouted. Even flushed with color, even glowing with a light layer of sweat, he still manages to resist. But Jaebum has thought a lot about this, and he just shrugs, lets his hands rest on either side of him. 

“Then you won’t be getting anything.”

“Jaebum. Come on.” Neither of them move, just look at each other. Slowly, the anger melts away from Jinyoung’s expression. He shakes his head, moving forward. 

“Officer Jaebum, I can’t do this. My hands are behind my back.”

Jaebum hums, then reaches forward to brush some hair from Jinyoung’s face, to comb it back with his fingers. Jinyoung’s forehead is pretty, his whole face is, and even more so dusted in pink, his lips thick and rounded and ready. He almost feels bad when he says, “You can figure it out. You have a mouth.” 

And he runs the tip of his thumb over Jinyoung’s bottom lip, and though he looks mad, he still closes his lips around his fingers. He still sucks for a second, gives it a kiss. 

Then his head leans into Jaebum’s lap, but he manages, with some effort, to catch the zipper of his pants between his teeth. Slowly, he pulls it down. He tries the same with the hem of his pants, though his tongue comes out more, wets the fabric where he tries to hold it in his mouth. 

Jaebum just watches, sometimes breathes heavier, sometimes holds it in his lungs. He lifts his hips off the chair so Jinyoung has an easier time pulling off his pants, but after, when Jinyoung licks the front of his underwear and sucks through the fabric and his warm, wet tongue feeds into the heat of his groin, he lets his head start to tilt back. 

Jinyoung finally manages to pull down his underwear and his cock springs free, slaps gently against Jinyoung’s nose and to Jaebum’s surprise, Jinyoung nuzzles it with his cheek. He rubs his face over its length, then next to it, then his thighs. Jaebum unbuttons his shirt so it hangs open, so his stomach peeks out and Jinyoung rubs his face against that too -- without his hands, he’s left to roam his body with laps of his tongue, with his cheek, with anything that lets them share warmth and heat and the electric meeting of nerves. And Jaebum groans, Jaebum loves the sight of Jinyoung doting over him like a cat, licking the line where his thighs meet his hips, licking under his cock, then, almost shyly, lapping at the tip. 

Here, Jaebum fits his hands behind his head and lets Jinyoung work. He licks him mostly, but, after kissing his entire length, after leaving it coated in saliva until it shines, each vein glowing, he starts to suck. He starts slow first, just the tip, then lower, taking more in each time, always conscious of his breathing. Then his teeth graze against Jaebum’s head and his thigh twitches and Jinyoung looks up at him with wide eyes, curious. There’s a heat in there, a fire that Jaebum loses himself into because soon Jinyoung is sucking more, sloppily and warm. He seems to slurp, sometimes he chokes, and the pleasure makes the seconds melt into each other until Jaebum loses track of everything. 

He only knows the heat between his hips, the slide of his cock against Jinyoung’s lips, the sight of them wrapped around him, almost as red as his cock. He only knows the soft, wet feel of Jinyoung’s tongue, his mouth, the sharp graze of teeth and the eager way in which he sucks. Then he pulls off and strands of saliva and come stretch from the head to Jinyoung’s lips and Jaebum knows what he wants. 

He fishes out a condom from his shirt pocket and pulls down his underwear so it hangs at his ankles with his pants. Then he rips it open, presses the condom against Jinyoung’s lips. 

“Put it on for me,” he says and Jinyoung looks nervous as he fits it between his teeth, tries his best not to drop it but it falls, anyway, and Jaebum has to put it back until Jinyoung wraps it around Jaebum’s cock and pushes it down with his mouth until he chokes gently. And though dulled, the sensation is still invigorating. 

Then Jaebum says, “Stand up and turn around.” 

Jinyoung, already in his role, already needy and leaking and breathing heavy, does as he’s told. From the same shirt pocket, Jaebum pulls out a packet of lube and slicks up his cock, then he reaches forward to pull Jinyoung closer. He nearly falls, but Jaebum holds him in place with one hand, fucks him open with his fingers of the other. 

Jinyoung trembles and he whines and each sound falls around them like music. It feeds Jaebum’s heat, it feeds his need, and soon, satisfied with his work, he leans back, tells Jinyoung, “Sit, baby.”

The handcuffs rattle as Jinyoung finds Jaebum’s cock and aligns himself with it. So much buildup has Jaebum feeling sensitive, and his breath catches in his throat -- his cock twitches when Jinyoung sits flush on his lap. Then he starts to move, and it feels heavenly. Jaebum closes his eyes, focuses on sensation, but the movement is slow, hindered by the handcuffs so he holds Jinyoung in place with an arm around his middle and reaches down into his pants pocket to fish out the key. He undoes the lock and Jinyoung stretches his arms above his head with a moan, then holds on the chair armrests and finally speeds up, finally rocks back and forth and Jaebum starts to unravel.

He looks down at where Jinyoung’s round ass is perched on his cock, jiggling with each bounce, taking it all in and Jaebum pushes his cheeks together so that Jinyoung tightens around him. So that his orgasm is close and he keeps grabbing at Jinyoung’s ass, playing with it, pushing it together as Jinyoung moans each time, egging him on. Then he spanks him and Jinyoung mewls, comes to a stop. 

Jaebum, now impatient, pulls Jinyoung’s torso backward so he falls against him. So that his chest, now bared and soaked, presses against Jinyoung’s back in a meeting of heat and sweat. Their bodies move together after that, with each thrust led by Jaebum's thighs and met with Jinyoung's hips. He reaches forward to grab Jinyoung’s cock and he starts to pump it along with his thrusts, sometimes slow, sometimes quick, but soon Jinyoung is whining and writhing and Jaebum feels every hesitation around his cock. 

He can no longer tell where he ends, where Jinyoung begins -- he’s gone numb to anything but pleasure, always an urge he can’t reach, one he races towards to. One built of wet, slapping skin, the taste of salt, the tickle of Jinyoung’s hair against his neck and the sway of their hips, taken at once, together. 

Jinyoung is the first to come -- his cock twitches in Jaebum’s palm and a beat later, his come drips down over his fingers. He doesn’t stop stroking, though, because Jinyoung gets sensitive, and each time he squeezes his cock, Jinyoung fidgets and twitches and jumps a little and tightens around Jaebum’s cock. It only takes a few more seconds for Jaebum to come, and Jinyoung groans, moves his hips in a circle and Jaebum holds him in place. Jaebum holds him down, even as he gets soft, so that their hips are locked together. Every breath after that is taken as one, and Jaebum no longer sees them as separate bodies, but one taking the same breaths, sharing the same heartbeat.

As they catch up with their breaths and he becomes aware of Jinyoung’s weight over him, his neck curved, his head slumped against Jaebum’s shoulder, eyes closed, lips still swollen, breathing heavy, Jaebum wonders what he’s done in life to deserve this slice of heaven.

\--

“Okay, now put the star on top.” 

Hyunjin takes some time stretching his little arms so he can put the star on the tree, makes sure it’s straight and steady. He even shakes the tree to make sure it won’t fall off. Jaebum, holding him up by his waist, is just as careful that Hyunjin won’t fall. 

“Why do we put stars on tops of trees?” 

Jaebum sets Hyunjin down on the ground before he shrugs. He looks down at where Hyunjin looks up at him, looking interested, his eyes curious. But the only answer he has for him is another shrug. 

“I don’t know, I think it means something. That’s how my mom taught me to set up the tree, though.” 

They both move to the couch so they can inspect their work: the corners of the room are lined with streamers, and the tree glimmers in the corner, wrapped in lights, topped by a glowing star. Above the TV, they’ve pinned up three stockings, and small drawings of Santa Claus are scattered on the walls. 

“Where’s your mom?” Hyunjin asks, claiming the spot next to Jaebum on the couch, getting so close that his small frame rests gently against his. 

“She passed away,” he says and drapes an arm around Hyunjin, “Just like your mom.” 

Hyunjin gasps, then turns his neck to look up at Jaebum. His lips are parted, his eyes huge, as if seeing Jaebum for the first time. “Are they friends?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “They might be.” 

Hyunjin huffs, throws his arms up. “Jaebum, you don’t know anything! Did you tell your mom we were going to live with you?” 

“No, I didn’t -- I guess I forgot.” 

“Jaebum! She must be  _ so  _ confused. Tell her about us tonight,” Hyunjin says, “Before you go to sleep.”

“I promise I will.” 

“Tell her you’re my dad,” he says, nodding. Then he yawns and hops off the couch. 

“I will, I’ll tell her all about you.” Jaebum folds his hands in his lap, watches Hyunjin run around the living room, probably looking for a toy he’s lost. Then Hyunjin pauses, turns quickly to face Jaebum.

“Do you have a dad?” 

“He passed away, too,” Jaebum says. He smiles when Hyunjin’s face wrinkles with worry, then with focus. He presses a tiny finger on his chin, as if in deep thought, as if Jaebum being an orphan were a problem he could fix. And when Jinyoung steps into the room, just having changed for the party, Hyunjin’s face lights up, like he’s found the solution. 

“Park can be your dad!” 

“Park can be  _ what _ ?” Jinyoung’s steps pause, and he looks between Jaebum and Hyunjin, confused. Jaebum shrugs, but Hyunjin grins and runs over to the couch. 

“Jaebum doesn’t have a dad, Park, you have to be his dad.” 

They share another look, but now Jaebum looks less confused, grins just as wide as Hyunjin. 

“Last time I checked,” he says, “Jinyoung is the one that calls  _ me  _ daddy.”

“Jaebum!” Jinyoung yells. 

Hyunjin, yelling too, looks angry, “Park! You can’t steal my dad! Jaebum’s not your dad! Stop stealing things!” 

Jinyoung’s lips part, ready to fight, his face already wrinkled with anger but he pauses, takes a breath. Instead, he walks towards the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he says, “Come and taste the cookies.” 

Only Jaebum follows him to the kitchen, and he helps him pull out the tray of cookies, already cooled. Jinyoung has cut them into the shape of stars, all neat, all precise.

“These are cute,” he says. 

“My mom used to make them,” Jinyoung says, “Every Christmas. My grandpa, too. Me and my grandma used to just sit there and eat them.” 

He picks one up between his fingers, breaks it in two. Then he puts a piece to Jaebum’s lips. They part, and he takes it into his mouth, chews for a moment until the flavor settles in. 

“It’s a Park family recipe,” Jinyoung says but Jaebum is too distracted by taste. It isn’t the worst cookie he’s tasted, but other than the few dabs of frosting, it tastes off, almost bitter. But Jinyoung is looking at him expectantly with those wide eyes, both hopeful and nervous, and he can see the tiny flecks of emotion swirling around in there. So he bites back the taste, and though he struggles, he manages to keep chewing, almost endlessly. He lifts his hand and gives Jinyoung a thumbs-up, and Jinyoung beams. 

That smile, he decides, is worth almost choking. 

Then Hyunjin runs into the kitchen and Jinyoung gives him the other piece. Hyunjin, though, is more honest -- he doesn’t finish biting down on it before he spits it out. 

“Gross, Park!” he yells, “You used salt instead of sugar again!” 

\--

“Can I open the gifts now?” 

“Did your brother say it was okay?” 

Hyunjin almost whines, “He said after dinner! We all ate!” 

Jaebum takes a look around, tries to find Jinyoung in the room. The party, as expected, is small. Jinyoung and Jisoo chatter in the kitchen, having cleared the table after dinner. Jackson and Mark remain at the table, Jackson grinning in Mark’s face, talking excitedly about something and Mark, after two glasses of wine at dinner, now rests a hand against his thigh. Hyunjin and Jaebum have migrated to the couch to watch another Christmas special. 

But Hyunjin, with the patience of a child, wants to move on, so Jaebum shrugs, says, “If that’s what he said.” 

Slowly, the entire crowd gathers around. Mark and Jisoo sit on the couch with Jaebum, and Jackson sits in front of Mark, his head rested on his knee. Jinyoung sits alone on the loveseat and watches Hyunjin pull all the presents from under the tree into the rug in the living room. 

Most of the presents, at Jinyoung’s request, are Hyunjin’s, and they all pretend to be awed every time he tears the wrapping paper apart and fishes out another gift.

“A Nintendo Switch!” he screams, jumping once before he sets it aside and opens another, “A helicopter drone!” 

Watching Hyunjin’s face light up with joy, brighter each time, makes Jaebum understand why Jinyoung does what he does. Why he cares for him so fervently, and why he refuses to let go. In fact, he looks around, and everyone has been infected by Hyunjin’s happiness. They all seem in a state of bliss, Mark running his fingers through Jackson's hair, Jisoo with her shoulders, for once, curved and relaxed. Jinyoung holds a smile between his lips, a lovely smile that makes Jaebum swoon, not more than a few feet away. 

Then Hyunjin yells, “Park! This one's for you.” 

Jinyoung’s expression falls into confusion when Hyunjin walks up to him and hands him an envelope. 

“You got me a card?” he asks to no one in particular. 

Hyunjin goes back to his gifts, but he doesn’t open any more. All the eyes in the room seem to be on Jinyoung. 

He gently tears the envelope open, slips out the card. He’s smiling when he opens it, but soon that fades. His expression goes blank. A beat later, he starts to cry. 

The air in the room tenses when Jinyoung stands up. His voice sounds broken when he says, “This is too much.” 

The tears don’t stop when he slowly walks backwards. Then he turns into the hallway. A second passes and then the apartment fills with the sound of a door closing. The Christmas special still murmurs from the TV. 

“I’ll go check on him,” Jaebum says, standing. Jackson and Mark nod quietly, Jisoo smiles, and Hyunjin just stares, clutching a new toy to the chest. 

Then he walks, and the hallway seems bigger than it usually is, more quiet. He turns the knob on the door, steps in carefully, silently. Jinyoung is sitting on the edge of the bed, still holding the envelope, still rubbing at his eyes. 

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, no louder than a murmur, and Jinyoung looks up at him. Their eyes meet, and Jaebum’s heart tightens, even warms. “They’re all worried about you.”

“Jaebum,” he says, shaking his head, “This is too much money. I can’t take that from you.” 

“It’s not just me.” Jaebum goes to sit next to him on the bed. He rests a hand on Jinyoung’s thigh, gives him a smile. Jinyoung looks back down at the check taped to the card and sniffles. “Everyone chipped in. We know how much you wanted to get Hyunjin into a good school. It’s your Christmas present.” 

“This is too sweet,” Jinyoung says, and his voice cracks like glass again. 

“You deserve it.” 

Seconds flutter by and the silence condenses like drops of water on cold glass, a bit soothing, refreshing, but ultimately messy. The more time passes this way, the more nervous Jaebum gets. 

“I wanted to ask you something else,” he says. He presses his feet together, his fingers tap on Jinyoung’s thigh. 

“What is it?” 

“Well, I know you said you didn’t want to make any rash decisions until you got Hyunjin’s tuition paid, and, well, you go that. So I was wondering if that offer was still up, you know, for you and I to--”

He never gets to finish. Jinyoung grabs Jaebum’s face with his hands and pulls him into a kiss. A new sensation fills into the room: no longer cold, but warm, no longer water on cold glass but the sunlight it wards off. The kiss is gentle and tender, and the taste of cookies lingers, store-bought but still sweet. Jaebum licks his lips when they pull away. 

“I’ll take that as you want to be my boyfriend.” 

“Yes,” Jinyoung says with a laugh. His cheeks are still wet, but he no longer cries. “Of course.”

They look at each other for another second, then hear a thump at the door. Jinyoung stands up to investigate and Jaebum follows behind. He swings the door open and on the other side is Jackson and Mark on the right, smiling apologetically, their heads still twisted towards the door. Hyunjin stands in the middle, his arms raised, celebrating. Jisoo is the one that looks hopeful and happy and who, without shame, steps into the room and pulls Jinyoung into a tight hug. 

“Finally,” she says, and Jinyoung, his chin resting on his shoulder, gives Jaebum a glance.

Then Jaebum takes in the scene: Jackson and Mark stand upright, now, and congratulate him while Jisoo touches his arm. Hyunjin waits his turn to hug them both before they all return to the living room, together.

Jackson cracks a bad joke and Mark laughs a little too loud and Jisoo rolls her eyes and Jinyoung smiles when Hyunjin asks him what it means and Jaebum realizes that this is his life, this is his family, chosen and mismatched and beautiful, like one of Hyunjin’s drawings of a snowflake on the wall: precious and inimitable. 

\--

“Jinyoung?! Have you seen my blue tie?!”

Jaebum rustles through one of the top drawers of the dresser, pushing aside his watch and Jinyoung’s wooden box and one of his belts, or maybe the belt is Jaebum’s -- he can’t be sure. After seven months of living together, their boundaries have blurred enough that Jaebum no longer sees the difference in things that are his, or Jinyoung’s, even Hyunjin’s. Everything seems to exist as  _ theirs _ , like a family, he thinks. 

“Why don’t you just wear another tie?” 

He turns, and Jinyoung stands in the doorway. He’s already dressed in a white button up tucked into dark pants with a matching blazer. He wears no tie, instead the top two buttons are undone. Still, he looks handsome, and Jaebum has to take a second to admire him. 

“I wanted to match,” he says, grinning. Jinyoung shakes his head.

“You’re so cheesy,” he mumbles, walking past Jaebum to pull open the last drawer. He spends no time looking, just fetches the tie from the corner. Then he turns to Jaebum. 

“Stand up straight,” he says and Jaebum follows his order. He stands still as Jinyoung wraps the tie around his neck, fits it under his collar. His fingers are deft as they tie the knot, just as he’s done countless time before, from Jaebum’s promotion ceremony at work to the first time he met Jinyoung’s grandparents a month ago. Jaebum watches Jinyoung’s expression flicker in and out of focus as he tightens the knot, lifts it slowly to the base of his neck. Then his hands smooth down Jaebum’s chest and he looks up. Their eyes meet, and something flickers between them, something warm, something familiar, something creeping out of the black of their eyes, like a glimmer coming in from the sky -- starlight finally striking the earth. 

When he’s about to name it, to give the feeling shape, Jinyoung leans in to kiss him. Their lips are a breath away when Hyunjin screams from the hallway. 

“Park!” 

Jinyoung glances at the door, then back at Jaebum. He smiles, peels himself away and heads out of the room. 

“Duty calls,” he says over his shoulder and disappears. Jaebum lingers in the room, fixes his hair in the mirror one last time, takes a final glimpse at his outfit and heads outside. 

Jinyoung is squatting down, fixing Hyunjin’s hair with a comb and a small jar of pomade. 

“Park, it doesn’t matter what my hair looks like! I’m going to be a  _ tree _ !” 

“Well, you’ll be the best groomed tree.” 

Jaebum steps closer and notices how, even though he’s frowning, Hyunjin doesn’t move, somehow both bratty and obedient. Then Jinyoung finishes and stands. They both turn to look at Jaebum and for a moment he’s swept away by the feeling of love, but it passes soon. 

He always thought love would overwhelm him, always thought it would crash into place, messy and scalding, pain that was somehow blissful. Something wild, unrestrained. Something he had to hold in his hands tightly so it wouldn’t slip away, no matter how much it burned, no matter how hot the flames were fanned. 

But looking at Hyunjin and Jinyoung, knowing that tonight they’ll drive back home after the show, that tomorrow he’ll wake up to Jinyoung getting out of bed to get Hyunjin ready for school, that their life has somehow fallen into a routine that’s quiet and tender, but wonderful, too, he realizes how peaceful love is. It slips cleanly into place, making a home out of their apartment walls, out of their bones, out of their laughter, out of their unruly lives. 

Love has always been here, he realizes, throbbing in his chest with both fists, waiting to be noticed, to be recognized. And, like a light flickering on, he starts to feel it everywhere. 

Love is taking a picture of Hyunjin and Jinyoung together so they can send it to their grandparents. Love is driving them to the private school while Jinyoung and Hyunjin bicker over the sound a tree makes, or if it makes a sound at all. Love is kissing Hyunjin’s forehead before he runs off to meet Jisoo to get ready for the play. Love is finding his seat with Jinyoung, their little fingers hooked together, the only intimacy that they’re allowed in public. Love is leaning close to him when the lights dim, their knees pressing together. Love is the auditorium humming with laughter when Hyunjin pokes out his head from between the curtains, already dressed in a tree costume, his eyes thinned and peering out into the crowd. 

Love is raising his hand to wave and love is Hyunjin waving back, his face bright with boundless joy, before he sneaks back behind the curtains. 

Love is knowing that this is the life he wants, that Jinyoung is the one for him, he the one for Jinyoung, and love is finding Jinyoung’s ear with his lips and whispering, “I love you.” 

Jinyoung whispers back, “Do you now?” 

Jaebum takes a moment to smile, to breathe in the scent of Jinyoung’s shampoo, to feel the shape of his ears against his lips. The warmth, like their lives, melt into each other seamlessly. Then he sighs and whispers, “I am, I’m sure. More than anything else in my life.” 

The chatter of the auditorium dies down when the final lights turn off. Then a single spotlight shines on stage. Music comes in from the side, a soft melody on a piano. A few violins join in. Jinyoung finds Jaebum’s hand in the dark, stretches his fingers to thread them together. 

Then the curtains pull apart, and the show begins. 


End file.
